Unmerciful Disaster
by RedBarron
Summary: Madness and terror reigns in the immeadiate future after the end of the cannon as Zuko tries to strengthen old bonds as his nation crumbles into oblivion, while treachery goes beyond oaths of allegiance. Rated T: for mild violence. Reviews appreciated.
1. The Encounter

The small, teenage Ty Lee sat lazily by, looking into her reflection, on a dark and chilling night. Her mirror, illuminated brightly by two candles, perched beside the mirror still, flickering faintly, as the wind howled whispered outside her door.

Not a sound to be heard, not a whisper, nor the prattle of feet on the floor, nor the gentle calm of weary breath, to ease the comfort of this lonely night. The moon, so brightly shone in yesterdays, dare not reveal itself, and eerie shadows, cast upon the floor, gave such grim disclosure that would make you fiercely shudder.

She hummed, faintly, a melody, anything to calm her nerves, her hands fluid and gaily whisk the hair, as she recites her favorite song. Those words drizzle like honey from her mouth, to bear the pain of night .

And the sad discountenance of the doorway did bear its mark. No light, no life, no solemn voice was heard. Not the echo of lost bird, nor the calling of its mate. The trees, grim and long, stood in formal array, unmoving and void of life. It was as if nature, in one vain course, did seek to shun all happiness from this place, and cast the melancholy spirits lower.

The girls nervousness, did not allow her to blow the candles out and reside to bed. For anything, she had thought, would be better than to stay in bed alone in the pitchest dark. And so, she braced her soul, and did what any soul would do, she looked and she hoped, that dawns first light may harken so much faster to shun the night's contempt.

As time wore on, the melody became replaced, by certain, sad, and forlorn songs of love. She dreamed one day, that soon her love would return to her, and in his arms she would hold herself against his hearty breast, and thought on that reuniting day. As she napped, she heard outside her window, the most perplexing sound. From out the distance, came a low, mumbled, almost moaning voice harkening out "Heeeeey Hooooo!"

"It's nothing", she told herself, perhaps some foreign traveler, or distant fawn, who was caught in some distress. To this call, did she give not a second thought. But sometime latter, she heard the voice again, only this time it was closer and louder, saying "Heeeeey Hooooo!"

"It's just someone lost in the night," she told herself. And continued on brushing her hair, though now her hands were shaking, and every single moment gave her heart more to fear. Until she heard the voice again, not 200 yards off, clear and distinctive did it ring from out the woods: "Heeeeey Hooooo!"

By now her heart did waver as this man, this thing grew close and closer, beckoning certain disaster for her. She shook so hard she dropped the the glass brush, shattering it into a million pieces, as she hurriedly blew out all the candles. In the darkness now, she buried her head, deep into her pillow, till the voice rang out again, right at the front door of the house "Heeeeey Hooooo!"

She trembled now as the thing turned the knob and entered the house. It's footsteps loud and cumbersome, rattling on the floor. Clunk, Clunk, Clunk, Clunk, it approached, until it was right outside her door, and the door, slowly but surely creaked open, in the dark the figure loomed, mysterious and concealed in darkness, and it whispered now "Heeeey..."


	2. Consequences

The teenage girl panicked, her mind filled to point of insanity and desperation, her heart pounding at an insatiable rate. Her nerves became brittle, and her lips trembled, and the wind howled, and the darkness roared. She sank in misery, to the very pits of despair, she threw herself to disaster and hurled herself into the arms of oblivion.

She lunged onto the floor, and grabbed the nearest shard of glass she could lay her fingers on. As she grabbed for her life, the shard cut her finger, as she hurled the now blood stained shard at her pursuer, vowing not to be taken without a fight. The glass sped threw the air in less than a second, the air bending it to its will, causing it to part and whistle it outs flight, and she prayed in the next second that the head would hit its mark.

It struck with a resounding "Shing", the now wounded creature exhumed the air which the projectile and thrown out of it's lungs. It bent over, grasped its chest, and fell to the floor in a mighty "Clunk." She let out a sigh of relief and thanked whatever power had caused her such success, but still frantic she let a mighty fire radiate from her palms to light the candles to see what dastardly foe she had slain.

What she saw lying before her was not what she expected. Groaning on the floor, grasping his wounds, and quenched in pain was the mighty Fire Lord. His eyes squinting as his arms rapped around his chest holding his precious life blood which now oozed out his shirt where the shard of glass lay protruding, splintered into five sections, from his bosom.

She let a fainted gasp escape her lips as she viewed the sight before her and a million things rushed through her mind all at once. What was she to do? Where to go? Who to find?

She could barely could contain and started squealing a hysteria of "Oh my God's and I'm Sorrys". She hectically paced around in a circle, holding her arms to her shoulders, crying tears of loathsome reprisal as she realized the foolishness of her actions.

She let her voice escape to the heavens. "Dear God! What have I done?"

When in a few seconds Zuko managed to utter out in the half-lite room, calling to her,"Ty Lee...". His voice drained and coarse, letting almost a crackling pitch extrude from the depths of his soul.

Ty Lee looked down on him, still with her hands covering her mouth, unable to talk as her emotions overcame her in grief, as her friend and lord bleed on the floor., His face looking up in disbelief at her, his chin hanging down, gave him the appearance of person who had been betrayed and never saw it coming, as he managed to form one last, he asked in solemn reverence: "Why?"

The word hung in the air as the fire lord fainted on the floor, and the only thing out bewildered girl could whisper back was "Why?"


	3. The Morning

The day brought no joy to the beleaguered and bewildered Ty Lee. She had toiled away all night, doing every procedure, taking every precaution, saying any prayer, she could to ensure Zuko didn't bleed to death. As exhausted as she was at 6:30 in the morning, she sighed a deep relief when Zuko's wound formed a clot, and his heart rate remained steady. All those years in the circus, learning the byzantine art of acupressure had finally found a purpose. Had she not, she may not have been able to cease the flow of blood which threatened to send him into the next world. However, it wasn't death of her companion whom she feared now, it was how she was going to apologize when he woke.

Zuko had always been reserved, this she knew, but she had never crossed the line of awkwardness before. She feared Zuko in this new circumstances. Would he be upset? Would he be vengeful? Maybe he would never speak to her again. All these things and a million more, poured through the mind of our acrobat, as she sat watching the clock go by.

Though her mind wandered desolately through the valley of despair, she found a comfort in looking at the clock. This strange piece, though antiquated, was stunning enough by far. The clock face, ornately decorated with illuminated figure spelled out the time in a grand fashion. On the top corner, there sat the sun, his face wide and brimmed, his lips modest, his nose pointed, peering out, pressing from his cheeks what looked like a modest smile. While on the bottom sat the moon, wide and serious, gazing out in almost a regal appearance. Head held high and lips in a neutral plain, he looked the part of a royal indeed. His face, to be frank, was blank.

This two pictures held dominion as the other two spaces were filled with events of the seasons. On the lower left, in showed a vast field, filled with barely. All around peasants labored in the glaring sun, harvesting their crop in front of a large and astute fortress. On the top right it showed the same field, only it was night, and the field lay barren. Its attendees gone, and the fortress, which was solemn and foreboding in summer, now sat a blaze, as light blazed from the windows.

Many times she had seen these hallowed pictures, and many times she pondered over them. Though their message was clear, their meaning was not. She had gazed so often a child, wondering who was in the castle, and why was it a-light and why the sun was happy, and what the moon was bereaved.

And now, so many years later, she looked at the deviant clock, looking over the same epitomes as she had in years past, only now with a sort of reverence as the second hand ticked away, and gears inside gyrated on their axes, and the world kept on spinning.

The minutes passed by, like agonizing hours, as she leaned her palm on her hand, waiting for the ax to come down. To Ty Lee though, this was worse than an execution, this was Zuko. Ever since they were children, she had harbored feelings him. Unsure feelings at first, but feelings that nonetheless became matured into a longing, a desire, for the now young King.

Though she entertained the idea, she knew she grasping at the egregious fantasies of teenage girl and she knew it. She was the sun and he was the moon. Where she was happy and exuberant, he was refined and mellow, while she was carefree and loved, he carried the weight of his subject's discontent on his shoulders, while he was a majestic ruler ordained to rule by almighty God, she was a commoner, lowly and uncouth, brought to status only by the good graces of the once former despot whom she befriended, and whose coat tail she rode until she was cast into the dirt by that same despot when she betrayed her. Royalty and mediocrity. It was like night and day.

Shes still hoped though, maybe one day. One day when the justice of this world is to order, on that day when all the worlds sins will lay bare, and we will all be equal. When there are no more distinctions, and we shall be cast to eternity. Maybe on that day, she would enjoy the comfort of her love. But death was still a long way off, she would have to wait a while, a little while, but eternity was a long way off, would be worth it?

Before she could think anymore, her hearts desire began to stir from his slumber.

(Two in a day. I am actually starting to enjoy writing this, unlike a great many of my past fanfictions. Enjoy.)


	4. Awakening

His eyelids slowly folded themselves open, revealing his golden eyes. Ty Lee looked on with a straightened face, glumly puckering her lip, waiting for him to give a cue, a word, an emotion, a sign of disappointment, or a nod of recognition, anything. When he peered in her direction, he allowed a narrow smile to cross his upper lips, and replied in a voice that was almost as golden as his eyes, "Hello." The sound was sweet in pure, the mood joyful and uplifting, demeanor calm and innocent, like a small child who introduces himself for the first time. "Fancy seeing you here."

Ty Lee, let the weight of the words fall upon her like the softest feather, and the granite that she had carried upon her mind for the last 8 hours feel off at that moment. Her soul uplifted and meek, she went over to him, lying on her bed, and asked, "Are you, okay?"

The Fire Lord, breathed a moment, and looked out window at the now brightly covered window and replied in a voice, small and strained, "Yeah."

Without a moments hesitation, the young girl launched into her oration, "Look,Zuko, I am so sorry..."

Zuko held his hand in an open palm above his chest, waving her to decease, as he pulled himself up to see her, "There's no need for that. I would have..." he groaned in strained discomfort "done the same thing." Ending his sentence as though he was short of breath. "Perhaps... I should have knocked." He gave a mild chuckle.

Ty Lee let a fragile grin part her lips upon hearing her friend's reassurances. He really was sincere, maybe flustered, but honestly well at heart, she concluded. She could feel her heart rise from those pits of despair whence it had been cast earlier and rise to the summit of relief as the tension dispersed from the room.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Ty Lee asked, throwing off the throws of guilt she had earlier.

"Water would be nice." he said, as he tossed his back on the pillow.

She hurriedly went to the kitchen, were she had in a jar of water which she had retrieved from the well earlier. The water was as clear as crystal, and shimmered from the glorious sun shone throw the window. She poured into a a glass cup, which she only reserved for special occasion, (as glass was expensive and hard to come by). She didn't tarry a second longer and quickly handed the cup to Zuko. The torrid King drank the water down, his throat sore, and his body empty of vital sustenance for blood. When finished, which was not shortly after, he laid the cup next to the bed and turned to see his old acquaintance.

He looked her over, and after a brief pause, stated in a temperate voice, "You've changed."

Indeed, the adolescent girl had in short time had come of age and it showed in the many ways her body had changed. She was still tall and slender, but the physique of youth she had retained in later years had vanished, leaving her with tempered yet distinguished cheeks. Her torso and legs were no longer so lenient in their design either, having elongated themselves causing her even thinner than before. She no longer kept the pony tail she had worn for so many years. She had let hair grow long and loose, coming down now to her shoulders. Indeed, she was not the same girl whom he had known so long ago.

"You do too." she commented. Of the two, he had probably changed the most. His eyes were now a tad sunken into his face, with signs of bags forming underneath, and his once round cheeks were hallow and jagged. His torso now was large and well defined with exercised abs. His hair, while still short, was furrowed and neat, with no spikes or eccentric bristles. Though he looked healthy, he also looked exhausted. This was not helped by fact that his skin had grown frightfully pale from loss blood.

For the next two hours the friends talked sparingly over what had transpired in the time since they had last seen each other. They talked of adventures and conquest, gossip and chit-chat, all the things normal friends would talk about. But there remained a void, a tense spot that lingered around as they continued. Though it easy to ignore, it kept manifesting itself in the various pundits and remembrances of times past, like a wound you keep picking at until it bleeds.

But the conversation came to a grinding halt when something else lingered in the air as well, only it was not as subtle as a stray word or phrase. Ty Lee inhaled the aroma which now engaged her senses and she knew it at once what it was. It was the crisp and burning tenders of a fire.


	5. Escape

Ty Lee ran to the other side of house, and in the windows, pillars of flames started shooting out and were quickly consuming the building. The noxious fumes starting increasing in volume as huge billows of soot started filling the air as the flames grew higher. And suddenly, time seemed to creep to a halt as the house began to fill like an hour glass, the air growing heavier, the smoke filling every crevasse, the heat intensifying, threatening to broil them alive.

She desperately waved through the plumes, the hallways now were foreign and and desolate places, indistinguishable as the haze of death floated over her. She couldn't help but cough, she coughed so hard she thought she would vomit her lungs. Gasping for every ounce of clean air she could she tied a moistened cloth around her mouth as she perilously tried to transverse the narrow halls to find where she had left Zuko. Bumping against every panel along the way , she barged in the door, hoping there was still time left to escape.

The air grew denser still as the haze became a solid cloud of blackness. Her head swooned as she desperately roused the Fire Lord from his bed, propping him on her shoulders, trying to escape the horrible demise that awaited them. But to the peril of our heroes, there was no way out, the smoke had blanketed the entire house, and trying to get to the front door would mean certain death. Her blood pumping, and her mind failing, Ty Lee, in one unrelenting kick, broke the window off its hinges, creating an avenue to escape. She jumped and tripped over the lattice, falling head first onto the porch of her dwelling.

Her nose now bleeding, she with her last strength and conscious, grappled her friend with her bare hands, grunting and hauling with all her power to bring them both to safety. She managed to get herself and her lord off the porch and just beyond the bushes lying in front, though they lay just meters away from what was now an inferno, they breathed the fresh air, gulping down the pure breeze. They both could not help themselves, as they now coughed violently, spitting up black clods of dirt which had been caught in their throats.

As they lay there, trying to regain what little grasp of reality as they had left, a strange type of peace emerged from the tranquility of laying on the grass. Hearing the vibrant call of birds and the rustle of the trees soothed the mind of debilitating loss, and was mediator between anguish and dissonant euphoria. A salve on the wounds of this earth, the balm found in Gilead, to ease the calamity of grief. Even the morose Zuko seemed to unwind in a strange idiosyncratic manner, letting fits of giggling and chortling overcome him as he lay idly on the turf. Soon the girl, seeing him act in such a peculiar fashion, succumbed to her own laughter and soon they were both convulsing in ecstasy of excitement, caught in a hysteria of gayness, as they lay beside each other.

Whether this was brought on by their delirious minds or was just the extreme emotional consequences of the situation, they found themselves lost in each others presence. A for one brief moment, resided in a paradise. But, much like spring flowers, their birth is joyous and carefree, but the vivacious blooms quickly fade and die,and so to did this paradise. Soon, the cold steel of actualization clasped its piercing steel around their wrist. The fantasy broken by the austere contrast of destiny, as they were both hauled to their feet by fate's unyielding hand, to be greeted by the cruelest blow on indecency.

Perceiving what they saw before them was by far the most daunting task, either of the two had ever had to contemplate, for one could scarcely imagine the figure that now graced their eyes with his foreboding presence. Before them, mounted upon a war stallion of brown was an impressive warrior, who paced his horse as he gazed at the two. His armor, made of leather and steel plate, coated over with finest coating of red, made him shimmer in the sun. The steel, ornately carved with vines and and leaves, gave semblance to his wealth and power. His helmet, high mounted and with protruding horns concealed his face with one mask of black hide. His height, noble and tall, gave him the appearance of spectacular proportion, giving him immediate recognition to his being.

He settled his horses reigns and trod toward his captives, held bound by his soldiers who now stood at attention of their most respected leader. Dismounting, his armor clinked with a heavy thud as he made his way towards his prisoners. His footsteps slow and deliberate. He studied the two in a quick glance, and nodded, then loosed his mask to reveal his face. He smirked at the young prince who he had now captured, "Well Zuko, out whoring I see?" his Asian accent weighing heavily as he pronounced it with a sneer. "You should know by know that being outside the capitol is dangerous." His sight wandered on to Ty Lee, "But, I would leave the palace to, for such a pretty girl."

Zuko bit down his lips in a rage as he spoke those words. The warrior looked down with indifference at look, "What a look. It would almost seem you were upset?"

Zuko asked bitterly, "What do you want Dazshi? Gold? Women? Land?"

The warlord tsked as he strode to his demeaned captive, "Zuko, Zuko, Zuko, I am offended. I would have thought you would know me by now. That is very disappointing."

"Enough with the games! What do you want?"

Dazshi's lips formed into a scowl at the impertinent lord. "I would really hoped we might be civil over this, but I figure not. Very well, I desire nothing less than the complete remission of your power and your succession to the throne and all its vassals to me."

"Your out of your mind!"

"And yet you are my prisoner, who between us is being more demanding."

Zuko's voice was now filled with hatred, "The Avatar will never allow this treachery to occur under his watch!"

Dazshi, unfettered by the King's bold statement, responded, "The Avatar?" He strolled over to the saddle bag of his horse, "Do you mean this Avatar?" He pulled from his bag, the head on Aang, suspended on a rope, covered in pitch to preserve it. His face frozen in a horrifying "O". "Yes, just a little too ignorant if you ask me. Strange how 30 pieces of silver can make a loyal aide de camp cut off the head of his own master in his sleep. Perhaps he should have been a little lest trusting of the people he let follow him." He threw the head in front of Ty Lee, who by this point was furiously quacking. "Your friend the Avatar won't be able to help you this time, my liege."

"I will never surrender my kingdom to the likes of you, traitor!" At this point the burning house finally collapse into a smoldering ruin with a colossal quake.

Dazshi's voice became hostile, "Take his highness back to the island, the girl stay with me!" as he mounted on his steed. Zuko was knocked unconscious by of the guards, who then proceeded to drag him off. Ty Lee unable to control her self, wept bitter tears as she and Zuko were dragged away from each other.


	6. A Chance of Fate

The capture of his most Imperial Majesty was a most stunning consummation imaginable for the young War Lord, who indeed presently was only seeking provisions for his journey into the interior. While he was resupplying himself inside the local village, he was told by the chatting innkeeper that the Fire Lord had indeed passed by. When he questioned further, the citizens informed him, that he had come yesterday, and left just as hurriedly. Where he went they didn't know, all they knew was that he had traveled on foot and was not bearing any royal escorts. So marvelous were these claims that the War Lord, consumed with fiery passion set off immediately to find him.

It was no accident, however, that the mighty baron found the king so immediately, for Dazshi, being well versed in the art of war, kept numerous, if not an extensive series of scouts at his disposal, scouring the woods and lands ahead of him, knowing all to well the price of going into enemy territory unaware and unknowing of what lied ahead. When word reached him of the Fire Lord's adjacent proximity, he summoned all his informants before him, ordering them to go and search every house.

The spies, being so adapted to their trade, glided through the wilderness with almost unhindered invisibility, tracking every path and foot, every trod and mark, determined to find where he was. But the task at hand proved more difficult than they had expected. For one, the houses were few and far between, some of them so remotely isolated, there was in fact only a narrow path to provide access to it. This made an arduous job terribly slow and ineffective. To further delay their efforts, the moon was almost completely covered, and the fog, which was caused by the sea that was only 20 miles away, blanketed the area, making it nearly impossible to see at night. Such urgent haste then was put on the scouts, that in order to keep from being separated from each other, they called out signals to each other. Though this was a terribly rash move, and more compromising for men who prided themselves in keeping hidden, it was altogether necessary to find their prey. In fact, one man, blinded by the fog, actually came with 20 feet of the Lord but hesitated to call out because of the obscure nature of the figure. But when he did, he called out "Hey!" to which, as every person who is trained in signaling knows, that the appropriate response is "Ho!" This protocol is standard for anyone who is lost, and anyway who grows up the sea knows it is to keep ships from colliding with each other. Zuko, naturally inclined to give the response out of responsibility. So as he paced through the woods, as he heard every consecutive "Hey!" from the scouts, he responded "Ho!".

Thus, the ignorant prince, through no fault of his own, exposed to enemy, what they could not find with their own two eyes, and ultimately sealed his own fate. This information, was still delayed further, however, when the scouts, despite their system, did get lost, and were not able to report it to Dazshi.

Dazshi had struck camp at the village, and eagerly waited in his tent for his spies to report back. Hours passed, and each hour that slipped by, the anticipating Dazshi grew more and more frightful that his chances of capturing Zuko were fading away. When by evening they had not yet returned, he feared that he had indeed evaded capture, and started drinking away his sorrows of the missed opportunity. By midnight he was sure that any chance that held of him being in striking distance had surely faded and that fortune and frowned upon his endeavor and took to drinking heavily, weeping at his own misfortune, until he passed out in a drunken stupor upon his bed.

The next morning, when at last the weary and bitter scouts finally drudged into camp, having many misfortunes themselves, being attack by wild animals and soaked from the waist down from having to cross a river among them, they finally reported to Dazshi that the Fire Lord was residing in a house on a hill, some distance off, overlooking the surrounding countryside. Dazshi, reeling from agonizing hangover, became furious and cursed the scouts for giving him information that was no longer any good, as he surely he had run off after sensing you. The scouts, claiming truth, told that Zuko was injured and was still inside the house. Dazshi, still doubtful of the truth of the claim, set out with his contingent of soldiers anyway.

The spies led him right away to the villa at which they had mentioned earlier, and there in the woods Dazshi saw that the house was indeed occupied as there was a small funnel of smoke protruding from the chimney, but who occupied it was still a mystery. Vowing that if the person inside was not Zuko, he would put the liars to the sword, he thus ordered all his men, which were some 20 and 300, to encircle the woods, and to be sure no one escaped, but that they were not to kill anyone. When the soldiers were in place, he ordered several men to go to the house and set fire to the place under the windows. They then cast torches unto the dwelling these torches, soaked with a new invention called "naffta" , caught easily upon the barricades and soon the entire house was in flames.

Thus, the capture of the two friends became inevitable, as extraordinary luck had caught the stalwart Dazshi in a place of opportunity and had shined its face upon him. For one could scarcely imagine, that the events following, surely pointed to disaster. In the end, Dazshi himself claimed his calm nerve and steadfast resolution had prospered the day, and gloated of the fact, even before his captive, still, bearing in mind, his head was still throbbing from the debauchery of the previous night. Thus Dazshi, to his men, appeared evermore the tactical genius, though whether through luck or tactic, his image was further perpetuated by these events, and in due course, became an enduring legacy of his character. Namely that, he took credit where credit was due, whether or not it was due to him.

It was such arrogance, in fact, that had caused him to quarrel with the Royal House in the first place. After being denied his war retribution for the cost of his weapons, which he provided in vast quantities to the fire nation soldiers. So he went before the royal household to sort the matter, but his debt was cast away by the corrupt treasurer, who refused to give payment to a man who had not come of inheritance, and further more insisted that the quality of the weapons did not warrant payment.

Being infuriated by the blatant insult to his weapons as well as his name, he pleaded to Zuko for retribution for this haughty mans insolence. Zuko taking great suffrage for the man, vowed he would set things in order. But through due legal course, he was denied a trial but the council who could not bring the treasurer to any legitimate charges which pointed to his corruption. Thus Zuko, confined by his own royal ties and political turbulence, could not pay Dazshi from the royal coffers.

When Dazshi heard of this "betrayal" of the Fire Lord avenge his name, he became disillusioned and resentful of the Fire Lord, though Zuko had offered to pay half the sum from his own royal salary (as he didn't have nearly enough to pay the sum in full). Dazshi, wary of the constant political maneuvering, and the willingness of the Fire Lord to bow to the council's pressure, furiously betook himself home from the Capitol homewards, and started to plot how he could inflict a pain upon the Fire Lord for his dishonesty.

The tract of land which Dazshi commanded and reigned as "Viceroy" over was a small peninsula in the southernmost leaning of the fire nation, just adjacent to an island to its east. The vicinity of the district reach unto the peak of the mountains to the north. This land was the breadbasket of the fire nation, because of its huge expanses of flat, fertile earth. The range of the mountains it presided over, also yielded large veins of iron ore and other precious metals, which were refined and manufactured into the terrifying vehicles and arms of war the fire nation had used so plentifully.

With a vengeance, Dazshi started whipped the region into a frenzy of rebellion, until it was in such a state of frenzy that it declared itself an independent kingdom. Zuko, hasty to declare outright war as his father had done, decided that it was best to approach and end the rebellion through peace talks before it perpetuated into something undesirable. But he had decided to stay and visit his old friend, with whom he had not met, as he went along the way. Thus, through unfortunate timing, and ill fate, our young Prince failed in his mission, and now all the fire nation lays in great peril at the hands of this new leader...


	7. A Solemn Vow

The host of soldiers didn't tarry long upon the knoll where their remained only the ashy ruins of what was once a proud and dignified home. They hauled the languid body of the prince to the road where they threw it inside a cart, quite regular and unimpressive, made of sturdy limbs of oak and filled with hay, so as to conceal the quite accessible and widely known mien of the Fire Lord.

As he lay limp, half buried in the pile upon the cart, he drifted wearily in and out of consciousness. His body over exerted and fragile from loss of blood, relinquished of strength from the fire, and now in constant motion which racked his head and made impossible to rest wrought on him a hefty toll and made his life a miserable anguish. The moments became long and dark only to be interrupted by wide blots of light and image which he managed to see when he opened his eyes. But as he lay in the state of exhaustion, being unable to move, he knew that he had thrown Ty Lee into the unprecedented precariousness of a threat he himself was uncertain of, and what plans the lord planned to use her for was not a question of 'if, but 'when'. The sinking weight of a thousand seas crashed upon Zuko's soul, as he navigated the darkness, naked and alone, for he knew he had sent one of his most cherished friend to her doom.

He shed silent tears of guilt, being unable to muster the force needed to weep, for if providence had provided him with the energy he would have. And as he lay there, helpless and bearing the chagrin of his guilt, the only words that he could utter, softly into the sky in a vain tempt to find redemption in his voice was the hallowed word: "Sorry." Over and over again he whispered the softest "Sorry", for while he was carried along, there was nothing he could do to compensate her from what terrible perils awaited his hapless friend.

The crushing realization only helped to throw the flustered lord into a spirit of distraught and woe as he faded in and out of abyss of his mind. Unable to move, every waking moment his eyes saw the exact image he had seen before. He gazed for hours, as the convoy moved along, at the armor of the guard who paced next to the wagon. On his pauldron, there was a vine, that twirled around intimately, and then twisted slightly supporting on its end, a small and fragile leaf, deeply hewed with gold and silver. For hours, he gazed listlessly at the image, until it was burned into the fabric of his mind, but it also made think. Think long and hard, into the deepest respites of his being.

The vine reminded him, of so many years ago, when he had been but a young boy of the age of 10, of the many happy summer days he spent in leisure. He could still picture the luscious green yard of his villa, the spotlessly trimmed hedges formed neatly around the front, with the cherry trees on the sides in full bosom. And the rising cliffs that looked out so gently to the sea and caressed down the banks as the gradually disappeared down the shore.

But what endless expense, what bounteous riches would he not give to have those days again, and what a fool he had been to have not enjoyed it enough while he had the chance. Royalty was never allowed to have vacations, royalty never went to leisure, royalty never slept, though they dreamed, oh yes, the dreamed of the day when they could put their minds at ease. He thought of all the hapless masses who would do anything to bask in royalty. If only they knew what pain, what sorrow, what weight that a title could bear upon them.

But he soon drifted back to that summer, where he and his friends would so often run aimlessly everywhere, unaware of any danger, of any passing care. When they spent the long days drawing or putting on a "play" that they would all preform together. But he recalled, on a such a noteworthy occasion, when Ty Lee had fallen into the grove of briars. She was trapped, and every time she moved the sharpened stakes dug themselves into her gentle skin, until she was on the brink of tears. He had stood there and watched, not knowing what to do, knowing she was trapped at he could nothing and could only listened to her anguished cries of pain and agony, and he vowed he would never let that happen again.

His mind brimming with anger and set on avenging this wrong, he there, half alive and weary, vowed to himself, that by the sacredness of honor's name, he would not rest until she was in safety. Even to the ends of the earth he would follow, or else be called 'traitor' to his house and all dishonor be cast upon him, he would make this right. This he swore.


	8. The Wilderness

The detachment traveled west, ever west, always towards the setting sun, heading into the oblivion of the world. Alone and encumbered, their beaten paths worn deep into the ground as their weary feet assayed over the sod to the sound of their ever clunking and clanking armor, which glistened like diamonds in the sun. Halberds and spears lung over their spears, brandishing their swords in their scabbards, and bearing fine steel helmets the soldiers were a sight to behold.

Totally isolated in the vast wilderness, traversing the paths seldom trodden, it the midst of all the tree-barren country, they're position was precarious if not somewhat strange, like an uninvited guest. At some point along, they realized their out of place position and their pace increased considerably. They hurried to make their exodus across the vast plains of the flat country, to the mountains where they could take refuge from the wilds of country side. Jogging, breathing deep, lugging along, they traveled onwards and onwards, to the vast ranges that seemed just twenty miles away on the flat ground.

But what seemed like 20 miles, turned into 40, and then into 60, and then into 100 as they moved on; day after day; struggling in vain to hurriedly make their way until it became apparent to them all of their real state their destination was over 300 miles away over the seemingly never ending flatland., so deceiving to the eye. What at first looked like a bid for safety soon became an hellish dream upon the soldiers as they realized they were out in the open, far away from any supplies or reinforcements, and that they could be seen for miles around by anyone and everyone. A spirit of anxiety soon feel upon them as they confronted this seemingly hapless situation with bitter determination, but knowing they could not return they continued on, always looking across the plain for any sign of life or provision that might exist, but was never there.

The Prince, still faring poorly, wavered in and out, day in and day out, trying to garner what strength he could laying in the cart. The guards, still reverend of their "leader" still gave him the most consideration and respect. They shielded him from the sun, burning rays and gave him water whenever he was semi-conscious. They gave him any amenity they thought would help the Fire Lord's position.

Soon, however, the supplies started to run low. And the jogging pace which they had sustained for some time now soon deteriorated into listless limp as the hot sun of the open fields bore down upon them. Men, trying to keep going, abandoned their armor and threw it upon the ground, for it did them no good in such an arid place what if carried would mean certain death. The pony carrying the cart, deprived of the nutrients needed to pull, soon feel over dead from exhaustion. The horse's death brought temporary relief as the soldiers greedily devoured it's carcass and drank it's blood to fill the void of water, the wagon had to be pulled by two men, harnessed beneath the yoke. But they continued west, ever west, always towards the setting sun.

Within the first week of the new implement, men were dropping dead from stroke, and those who continued on looked like walking skeletons, wearing nothing but what tattered cloaks and garments they had left on their beaten bodies, breaking off the heads off their once formidable weapons to use the staffs as walking sticks to drag themselves onwards, and resorting to looting off the dead for sustenance. The situation for these men looked hopeless, as the dying were not helped, and those who lived looked on with the utter sorrow of helplessness as their friends and comrades, one by one vanished from amongst their ranks.

On the last day of the march, when there were no more provision, and nearly half of the 500 men who had started on this quest lay dead upon the plains, they reached what seemed like a divine miracle that was planted their by providence. Their, in the middle of vast expanse, lay an oasis, a lake, brimming with high palm trees, and bearing water that was crystal clear, surrounded by blossoming green grass.

When the depleted soldiers saw this, they thought it was an hallucination, some foul reminder of their impending doom, sent to drive them mad. But as they approached, the lapse of water reached their ears, and the smell of the fresh breeze, and as they drew closer, and began to realize the reality of their hallucination, joy which has never been felt before surged over them, as they used the last bit of strength in their beings to drag their living corpses to the waters edge. Their they brisked themselves in the cool refreshment, and drank heavily from the spring of life. Screams of euphoria erupted all around, as the once forsaken soldier's hope was revived.

The men soon went to picking all the fruit that grew in the nutrients rich soil. Lavished with grapes and watermelons, coconuts and blueberries, the impoverished men greedily gnawed away on anything they could lay their hands on. Eating their full to their heat's content. It seemed at this time, this one singular time in the whole chronicle of their journey, the could finally make it. But what they didn't know, was that others were watching...


	9. Realizations

The dreariness was so captivating. It was a feeling of total relexation and serenity, yet haunted by the memory that eventually, one will have to awake from the state of semi-awareness and rouse ones self up. Zuko stretched his arms, now emerging from his immobilization, but still feeling a tinge of laziness decided it better to lay and watch the sky for awhile.

Above him, the heavens were a clear blue, not a single cloud around for miles, totally barren of any peculiar substance, and for once the air blew a fresh, cool breeze through the air. With such accommodating arrangements how could one be so apt as to leave it? What dismal circumstances he had faced previously vanished from his mind, and his thoughts were only occupied the pleasure of the moment.

But, something foul blew threw the air, and wafted its way into the gay princes nostrils, something black and putrid in odor, a noxious stink few people have smelled. Revolting to the senses, it was enough to make one gag and become nauseated by it's presence, and it soon forced the Prince to abort his short respite of leisure and to arouse himself to his current reality.

He forcibly grabbed the edge of the wooden carriage, in which he was still lying in, to explore what could have sent such a malodorous scent through the air, but what he saw, was nothing as he had imagined.

The image that lay before him was scarcely comprehensible by the human mind and horribly depressive to the spirit. Before him laid the remnants of those foolish soldiers who dared to cross the plains and drink from the oasis. Their bodies mangled in all manner of deformed states in which they had been slaughtered, they dotted the ground everywhere. Some all alone, backs filled with arrows, while some great multitudes lay in heaps, with sword slashed wounds still bearing fresh blood. Many bearing faces of horrid expression that revealed the awful nature of their deaths.

The raiders who decimated the usurpers set fire to the tents where men (without weapons), fled to escape, and whose charred remnants carried the horrid stink of death in the air. The victors, now having vanquished their foe, took to looting the dead. Those who still lived, those screaming and groaning in agony, where soon finished by the sword when the foragers sought to plunder them, giving no scruple to impaling their hearts without a second thought of mercy.

All the while, our young hero could only look on with a sense of dread and helplessness, as he saw those men, who had showed such kindness and civility that demanded amnesty, be cut down in front of his very eyes. And with their dead corpses, went any hope of speedily being ransomed and returned home anytime soon.

Suddenly, one of the barbarians turned his head, and found himself gazing squarely at the Prince whose now felt his heart drop into his stomach.

(Author's note: Any Review would be greatly appreciated.)


	10. The Beautiful Western Woods

Though at length, our hero found himself in a dreadful situation, hopeless and forlorn in the wild plains, a glimmer of hope remained. However, such hostile and foreboding events seemed to dictate a rather bleak outcome for our Prince. But, if anything could be said, the peculiar situation that our young maiden found herself in could be described as a happier one than the one confronting our Prince, or worse depending upon one's point of view. To Ty Lee, however, no matter how many rosy colors her immediate comfort our safety could be painted in, it was the still the later.

Dazshi and his company set out almost immediately to this "rallying point" which he had chosen. The name of this place was never spoken by anyone. All of the soldiers already knew where they were going, so it posed no need to say it. So, the able group began traveling south, crossing the various pikes and roads through the uninhabited ascending forest and swamp lands of the lower of Fire nation,

Upon setting out, she was given leave to mount upon a horse. The young girl obstinately refused to ride it, preferring to trek through the muddy quagmires that the roads had become in the rainy months. But no amount of mud flung upon her person could cast down her pride, nor could it break the resolve of her will. She was determined to flee, to fly like a bird, to escape these foul and obscene captors at the first chance she was given. The prospects for this happening however, were very slim indeed. For Dazshi, not being a fool, had clapped in her a set of heavy irons, which were wrapped around her horse on a padlock. The horse was then tied to a guard's horse, to ensure she didn't escape.

This minor deterrent, though minor, was still enough to constrict her abilities below those needed for a successful escape. Slitting ones wrist to get out of a set of irons was not worth the few moments freedom before she bleed to death. If she was going to escape, it needed to be subtle, an opportune moment when their backs would be turned and they wouldn't give her a second thought. But if she was ever going to do that, she was needed to earn their trust, and play the part of an ideal captive fora while, or so she had devised. And so, thinking it her best interest to lower their suspicion, she, with much reluctance of heart, finally mounted upon the horse.

Another drawback in the plan, was the sheer number of men whose eyes she needed to slip away from to make her getaway, and whose ranks seemed to increase every day. For it seemed, that the more they traveled through the trees, the more men seemed to join into the party. These men who seemed to be hiding in the trees; mysteriously blended into the ranks just as quickly as they revealed themselves. There was no doubt the difference between the two, the original soldiers who had first set out and the ones who now secretly bolstered the ranks.

The newest compliments were mostly deserters. One could tell by the imperial insignia on their arms, given to each man of the army after he was admitted into the army or navy. But unlike any trained soldiers, they collected themselves more as a mob. They lacked any formal discipline and showed it in the way walked and carried themselves. If one could guess, they were probably petty thieves and criminals who had been impressed in the army to fill the hole left by the bravest of their contingency who had fell in battle.

Thinking back, she recalled so many times, surveying barracks throughout the country, that life for the common solider was a frightful one. Every officer had the right to inflict punishment, and often did. Minor infractions, such as forgetting to salute, were punished with a beating, more serious ones, such as stealing, were punishable by flogging or death. It was no wonder then, that these common rouges, none too eager for service, quickly fled the army as soon as the war was done.

Thus she concluded, through sound judgment, that given the chance, that these despots would not act like true men of honor if they captured her while trying to escape, and might try any number of unpleasant advances or tortures. And so, as the situation dictated, her only practical option was to wait, wait for the eternity of time it took to reunite her with her true love: Zuko.


	11. Terra Nova

They marched onwards. And what had at first been inhospitable wilderness, soon descended into mild fields and subtle clearings where the flare of human life presided. They soon ascended through the valleys of the mountains, so green and fertile that one could scarcely find it disagreeable. It's rustic beauty and nature stood in sharp contrast to the barren rock of sheer faces above, cold and cruel, like death's hand descending upon the newest spring flowers. Yet for it's location, it remained remarkably mild, a feature, our young Ty Lee enjoyed immensely.

In truth, she had never liked the cold weather. Her delicate skin and small frame never protected her from winter's breath so much that she could be comfortable, which is why she enjoyed the art of fire. Fire is warm and inviting, it takes life, but it breaths it too; a symbol of destruction or a symbol of hope; the heat upon the hearth, or the weapon used to burn it down. It suited her that way, it complimented her style: vibrant yet dangerous. Yet, for all her love of her natural element to which she was naturally inclined, she didn't find excessive heat appealing either. The beach, as much fun as it was, still gave her much discomfort in the way of her skin, which burnt as red as an apple in the unrelenting sun. And so, she found this place most accommodating, perfectly suited to her preference, and for a brief moment, a solitary brief moment, she found herself dreaming in perfect harmony, a fantasy she had seen many times before but had never known existed. And all those thoughts of misery and woe, found themselves whisked away on a brisk south wind burning from behind, and for a short time, she was carefree and happy.

The gaiety of situation was not to last however, as the party gradually made it's way past the fertile valleys and into the flat lands of the southern peninsula. There, for vast expanses for miles on in, was what seemed to be: one massive grain field; stretching as far as the eye can see. It was unsettling for a person who had never seen it before, and traveling on a singular highway over the vast distance, gave one, a feeling of insignificance. To kindle more feelings of despair, in some places, the grain reached over the heads the contingent, and it seemed as though the field itself was about to consume them.

But as they days wore down, the grain fields became more translucent, until it disappeared entirely, into what seemed like a soil dotted with rocks, which seemed to protrude from the ground in many odd manners. Some were merely surface stones, easily seen but not noticeable, while others were massive boulders, some 10 feet wide. As the continued, they started to encounter more and more villages along the way. This villages were naturally humble, with only a few inhabitants, but structurally made from the stone of the area, which had been carved into neat stones to make an impressive and unshakable facade upon the houses.

At every villages, all of the townsfolk turned out to greet the returning soldiers. Making a great to-do about it, they summoned bands to play, as they paraded through the main streets, playing impressive marching tunes meant to rouse the spirits to war. Women waved handkerchiefs and men cried out encouragements. Indeed, one could scarcely have doubted that these men had just conquered the Impenetrable City, let alone what they had actually accomplished. Regardless, the sentiment of the people was shown clearly in their enthusiastic support of the troops, something which Ty Lee found most intriguing. For, in her entire tour of the fire nation and her brief adventures, she had never seen such pageantry of war as she had witnessed here in this desolate place. "Why?" she thought "Would were they so assured of victory?"

This did not make sense to her. The wounds of the last 100 year pressing conflict had left such bitter scars and anti-war sentiment upon the people, that it was surreal to her how these people still retained what seemed like an honest call to arms with such determined candor. Was it the mentality? Or their involvement? This she pondered all the while they continued on their travels. Her mind was soon beset upon another sight as it loomed over the horizon.


	12. The City on the Hill

What at first appeared a minor speck in the distance, a relatively indiscernible shape, grew bigger and bigger with every passing mile. It's features gradually became revealed under the blue shade of the atmosphere. At some point, the haze passed away into vapor, and there, a clear as day was the object.

There, some 10 miles away was a massive city which towered majestically over the plains. It's walls, made of red brick, hand cast and molted for excellent quality, were an imposing sight around the city, being all but unclimbable, their grandeur was only overshadowed by the fact there were two more walls reaching within the city, one inside of the other. It seemed unmanageable feat, for the walls stretched some 3 miles on one side before they began to show any sign of curving into the great circle that it was.

As they grew closer to the great city, more and more details came into view. The houses inside, climbing gradually above the walls, were cut with fine stone, elegantly carved and meticulously fashioned with all manner of sculptures and designs. In the lower levels of the poorer district, there apartments were smaller and less ornate, however, they still were neatly arranged in orderly streets. One plainly saw and understood that great care had been taken to efficiently design the city to be as ergonomic to the populace and architecturally splendid to the eye as possible. It only proved the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the city's designers.

This came to the great astonishment of Ty Lee who gazed a city which she had never thought existed. There were no indicators on the map, nor mention, or any news which showed or told that there existed a city which was larger and more extravagant than the Imperial Capitol. This sentiment was not entirely without reason.

Unbeknownst to our heroin, the city's existence had never been reported, due to the reason of existence. With it's elaborate and intertwining walls, as well as it position atop a seemingly endless aquifer, the city could hold under siege for many years before capitulating. It had been built purposely to serve as the the region's capitol, a move which had various political motives, besides the fact that the region never had a centralized place of power. It initially had been built merely for its own sake though, rather than any actual usefulness, it's for this reason the city had so many elaborate decorations coating its exterior. But after the gradual mistrust arising in the years following up the wars end, its entire design had been retrofitted, so that it might hold the burden of any tactical aggression into the area.

Dazshi, being the lord, and thus the owner of this citadel, had saw through the last planning stages before it was completed, to ensure it's excellent quality. Ironically, the city was to be presented as a gift to Zuko to hail his first year anniversary of reign. Now the fortress only belong to Dazshi and he held the sway of the people.

The party entered into the city, past the first gates which held cauldrons overhead for pouring molten oil onto incoming foes and battering rams. They were in the streets greeted in the same way all the villages had greeted them, but on a grander scale. All the citizens gathered, cheered and vaunted for their idols. Along the street, some 30 fifers, blew away in one squealing voice all the highest notes of the most patriotic fanfare to the heavens to harken their arrival. All inside resounded with all the noises of celebration conglomerated with one another, until it made one loud cacophony of commotion.

The victors marched at a pace that was barely moving, cherishing the love the admiration heaped upon them in such a glorious way. Ty Lee, dirt covered and tied to a horse tired to look dignified, keep her chin perched high and her eyes to the front, like she had seen it all before. In truth, however, she was unable to describe the massive amount of embarrassment she felt at being captured and paraded in front of the thousands of people, still clothed in what were now rags, which she had worn since she and Zuko departed each other.

For several hours, they marched on in about the city, flaunting their booty down every street. For not only did they have servants, the mercenaries managed to raid the an imperial gold treasury on the coast. But, as the celebrations cooled down, they gradually made their way to the highest level, to were Dazshi's residence stood.

(Author's Note: I'd like to thank all the readers for being patient, I promise the next chapters will be more eventful. Again, any review would be greatly appreciated, thank you.)


	13. The Estate

The rectified estate was not overtly impressive. It's facade was rather plain, it's 4 stories held aloft by two sets of marble pillars which formed the first two stories with open patios around the square design. On the top; several large formal and ornate windows were placed in an orderly fashion around the exterior in a concise pattern. But what it lacked in physical appearance, it made up for in it's vivacious inner decorum.

The open patio leading directly from the cobblestone street, opened into a graciously large inner area, filled with fanciful artifacts and edifices which gave it a charmingly antique appearance. And standing in stark contrast to the white marble on the outer pillars, the pillars inside the sanctum were coated with a great many colors and dark hues of burgundy which radiated solemness and dignity, and in the light made the room predominantly of refined culture.

As she was led through the house, Ty Lee couldn't held but notice the lack of candles and lighting instruments needed to illuminate the interior, and whose presence usually was standard in most buildings. She soon discovered that the great magnitude of the light of the house was allowed in through small ports facing east or west where the suns sets and rises. On the opposite ends of these ports were mirrors, meticulously placed to cast the light in the most ambient areas and magnify the sun's effect. At night, small candles were placed next to the mirrors, for lack of raw day light to make the chambers as equally visible. It was in this simple yet clever way that the entire estate was lighted, and to her great and marveled astonishment, for never before had she seen such an ingenious contrivance of architecture.

As she was lead up the stairs, which were given discrete locations at the corners of the house, she noticed the residence was not even close to being deserted. All around, generals, advisers, guest, civil contractors, councilmen, and public figures, went to and fro about the large building on the first two floors like worker bees going in and out and with just as much effort in their industry. The Mayor's palace was, after all, the headquarters of the city, where all the business and dealings needed to efficiently run the municipality occurred, and it was apparent by everyone's efforts that it was a tightly run ship. As they ascended the spiral stairs into the third floors, what was once the hurly-burly of a bureaucratic machine, turned into the scattered toil of a few servants and house keepers, cleaning and maintaining the living quarters.

On the fourth floor, the squadron of soldiers led her down a long aisle and showed her to room, which was the fifth one down on the left side. They opened door to reveal a stone room with an elegant fireplace to left, and a wooden bed and mattress to the right, where next to it sat a small dresser. Outside was a small balcony which overlooked the entire cityscape from the north where they had came. The captain of the guard, who was escorted with the soldiers, took out a rather odd looking two prong, black caste-iron key and slid it neatly into the lock , and with a mechanical "clink", the heavy weights which had chaffed her wrist for nearly a fortnight fell to the floor.

The captain of the guard neatly wrapped up the chain around the irons and he and the squadron took their leave out the door. She was thrown off guard, though, when she didn't hear the door be bolted or any sort of barrier placed upon it. She went to the door's iron handle and opened the wooden to peer out to see if they were coming back. She glanced around the corner, expecting at any time the guards to realize they had made a mistake and come back to lock the door, but they didn't. They all expediently descended the stairs to the lower levels.

She shut the door behind her as she went back into her room. "What a stroke of good luck" thought she, "All I have to do climb out the window and I can easily escape." She went over to the balcony and understood immediately why that was folly. Below her stood a drop that feel 100 feet before the it reached the roofs of the apartments in the second level. The task was perilously dauntless and she knew she would never be able to climb down the wall in any degree of safety. But maybe she could sneak out through the entrance.

As she pondered these thoughts, a rather plump woman dressed in formal attire, came into the room bearing a handful of bed linens in her arms. "I heard that somebody would be staying here. So I pulled out the old sheets and washed em'." She sat the larger comforter on the dresser and started tucking the sheet into the corners of the bed.

Ty Lee, who thought the woman a tad peculiar in terms of manners, but she took the opportunity to express her queries which she had just then been reflecting on. " Is this my cell?"

"Cell?" the housemaid asked astonished, "This isn't a prison dear."

"So I can leave?" she asked with a tinge of forlorn hope.

"You mean entirely? No. But you can go anywhere within the city as it pleases you." Her answer being sincere as one could possibly imagine.

She still questioned this unnatural allowance bestowed upon her and asked further, "Is Dazshi allowing this?"

"My Master is the most generous master to allow it. But he is the best master a servant could ever be indentured to. He is a mild man, with a favorable temperament, wise and council, and none too haughty." Ty Lee bitterly smirked "Compared to all the other young men of fortune, his is a respectable position, being he is well learned beyond his years."

What she had just heard from the maid astounded her to some degree, as the acquaintance was a temporal one and one not born of ill consequence, and perceiving her nature, she had no reason to lie about her masters actions. Could he be indeed more honorable than what she had seen?

As she was racked with more questions, the maid concluded her business as she set the pillows straight on the head of the mattress. "There you are miss. Now you are all set."

"Thank you very much. I never caught your name, I'm afraid." she said trying to sound as polite as she could in her first impression.

The maid smiled and gave a curtsey, "Jini, at your service."

"Ty Lee." she responded and returned the curtsey.

"I hope you enjoy your accommodations for tonight." said Jini "Tomorrow you begin working."

"Working?"

"Did you expect to laze around all day like the Queen?" The maid laughed to herself as she departed.

She reminisced on that comment, she had always known Azula to be tireless perfectionist who was almost never idle. "No matter. How hard can working be?" she thought.


	14. A Marvelous Curiosity

Imminent peril descended upon the young King with fearful quickness. He was wracked in horror at the realization of what was about to happen. He fiercely looked everywhere for anything that could be used a weapon, but there were none to be had. So with determinant pugnacity, Zuko picked up a chunk of wood from the carriage floor and waved it up his head ready to strike. But b y the time he managed to raise his face to meet the foe he was surrounded on all sides by armed soldiers, their swords tinging against one another as they held them within inches of his body. He slowly raised up his arms above his head as he reluctantly threw the piece of wood to the ground. His heart was all the way in his throat as he despaired at his fate. Though he tried to look calm and collected, he was being torn apart on the inside with a sense of dread, dread of his inescapable and impending demise.

From the other side of the camp an ensemble of horsemen trotted bouncily before the carriage. The riders, as well as the men of foot, all dressed alike in the fact that they wore distinct black and red tunics emblazoned with ornate patterns. Their heads were swaddled with a a burgundy cloth which wrapped around their skulls and mouths so that only their eyes were visible. They wore no armor on them, except for some who chose by convenience to wear leather grieves or gauntlets.

They bore their spears which they carried at there sides upward as horseman riding at the front slowly walked his horse in front of the carriage to look down on Zuko from atop his colossal war stallion. He pulled down the cloth blocking his mouth to reveal his face. He was a young man of his late twenties, his appearance appealing in every way. His eyes were a deep blue, like the ocean. His face was long and slender. He bore a smirk upon his lips that held all the arrogance and self prestige of a dashing cavalier and all the candor as well.

"Wherefore come you here to my plains?" he asked the Prince. Zuko pondered the question, for the man who addressed him spoke a very different speech than any taught to him. It sounded like an antiquated dialect long since replaced with the Imperial Standard.

Zuko, trying to show as much honor and respect to his latest captor spoke in broken fragments, trying to gather his thoughts as he assimilated his thoughts into a speech that they could understand, "I...have come...hither...from over...the plains...against my will..."

"Art thou a slave then? For it is of rarer sight to see a beggared such as thou, dressed in such goodly attire which is only sported by kings."

Zuko examined his clothing to see he was still dressed in the finely knit accouterments he had set out his journey with so many days ago. He replied as candidly as he could to appeal to his sense of honesty, "I am not of lowly status born, my lord, I am the Fire Lord."

As he finished the statement the entire assembly laughed heartily at the deviant answer. The horseman began to hold the reigns of the horse as it became nervous and started to trot to and fro. "Verily I did not know Ozai had a son. And if, as thou say it, he does, wherefore he be hereabout"

"What I do is to my and no others, but I am he." said Zuko, "And I would have your allegiance, if your honor not withholding, your are are any kind of decent subject withal ."

The laughter subsided within the ranks as the boldness of his words rested on the wind. The arrogant smirk that had so boldly been afforded on the horseman's face, subsided into a serious grimace. "Then prove you be he, then" he said, "For I have heard, through common tongue, that any man born of noble birth, doth have power many fold of fire bend. Then show us 'Lord', for t'would be but ease for a man of such higher stature such as thou. For your haughty tongue shows your noble lineage." The crowd burst into laughter at that last remark, but Zuko's courage never faltered.

He stood there, trying to focus enough of his energy into this one convention as possible, meditating on what would be impressive enough. He summoned all the energy that fate would allow him to muster, and with fierce anger he shot a pillar of fire 300 feet tall from his mouth. The fire radiated for several minutes, as Zuko, with war cry abounding, unleashed the strength he carried within.

When he could take no more, he seceded all attempts and continuing and ceased the struggle. Woozy with exhaustion, he looked upon a sea of bowed heads for a few brief seconds, before he fainted yet again.


	15. The Director

Ty Lee spent the rest of the day refreshing herself in her new abode, taking the time to bathe and prepare for her future obligations. For the next few days she learned the mundane occupations needed for the upkeep for the large estate; these included (but were most affirmatively _not_ confined to): scrubbing the floors, clearing the pipes, washing the clothes, setting the tables, mending the sheets, sweeping the street, polishing the boots, wiping the windows, replacing the candles, painting the house, dusting the artifacts, cleaning the bathrooms, etc. All while under personal supervision of the senior servant of the house: Herr Weiss.

Herr Weiss was peculiar type of man. He bore no resemblances of any kind to the inhabitants in any of his appearances or features. The most noticeable of these was his extremely pale skin, compared to the swarthy skin of the locals. He was so pale in fact, Ty Lee was unsure she had ever seen anyone of the same caliber before. His skin aside, his figure was further demeaned by his thin complexion and average height. His hollow cheeks and sunken eyeballs gave him a daunting countenance, which was only more imposed upon by the curious condition of his meek demeanor and serious perspective that inhibited him from ever giving so much as a grimace or a smirk.

Apart from his appearances, he was the model of cordiality and humility. When given a task he went to it straight away, never questioning it's purpose or raise objections to its difficulty or probability. Which made him ideal as a servant and advantageous as a coordinator of the other servants. Indeed, it could be said that the day to day maintaining of the house could not have been completed as they were, without the ever punctual Weiss.

Though he was not a cruel man, he was reserved. And if not understood properly, Weiss's demeanor of inclemency might of be interpreted by those who didn't know him as coldness or a perchance apathy. Those two presumptions, however, were from the truth, as Weiss was a very lenient man when he wanted to be. Ty Lee, who still tried to look on the positive aspects of this predicament, couldn't help but feel that he was being at best: a stick in the mud; and at worst: an unprogressive killjoy. Her apprehension was not without undue reason.

Being the head servant did not come without it's entitlements. Whenever he entered a room, if there was any chatter going on, it was immediately silenced by his overwhelming presence. No one addressed him other than "Herr Weiss" or "Director" or, on rarer occasions "Kapellmeister" (this was because he was also the conductor of the city's orchestra). When they spoke to him, there was no entreaties or speculative inquiries, everyone spoke to him promptly and to point, this was in due part to Weiss' own philosophy of punctuality, as people often earned his scorn to inform him about something which was off topic or irrelevant. It was because of these strange mannerisms that one could feel uneasy around the stringent Director.

His regimentation of chores she accepted with a patient mien, after all, it was not like any of these things were new to her, she had been doing such errands since she was a small child, it was his since of culture which truly tested her fortitude. Every evening when all the appointments were completed, she was required by Weiss to practice her 'Pianoforte' as he put it. This consisted of sitting for a good two hours, repeating and re-repeating the notes to a ditty she had played so many times before that the song had become permanently etched into her conscious. God help her if she hit a wrong key, for it would invoke the use Weiss's ruler upon the back of her hands. When he retracted he would say as he said a thousands times before "You hit a sour note. You think I didn't notice but I did, after all, I wrote it! You must learn to refine your skill. Every young girl should know how to play the pianoforte. I remember when I was a lad...". He then would ramble into some nostalgia about his glory days when he would write pieces of music that as he described it: "would bring the house down."

Though this irritated her to no end, she found some solace in hearing Weiss's stories about his youth. Even being the dull old man he was now, at one point in time he truly seemed like he was happy and creative person who at some point had had his fill of life and retired himself to a gentler condition were he could be satisfied.

About midway into his lecture (when he would start to try to explain some piece of trivia to his narrative that he thought needed exposition) she would begin playing softly again, so as not to interrupt the Kapellmeister and gradually moved up in tempo until Weiss had said as much as he pleased and preferred to listen to the music than ramble on.

The end of the secession was usually brought about in the following way. She would continue playing the song until she hit the wrong note and prepare for the ruler to hit her palms. When the ruler didn't come down, she would glance over and see Weiss dozing in his chair, softly snoring as he rested his cheek on hand. She would proceeded to hit the highest key as hard as she could which in turn would cause Weiss to be jolted awake. He then would say abruptly: "I believe that's enough for today, you may go to your chambers now."

After a few days of this, she started to warm up to the aged musician and almost comedic musings. He was a a firm hand in a world a that could have have been tearing the skin off her back. On some days, when there was nothing left to do, he would give her the rest of the day to leave the house and explore the town. His explanation: "Every youngster can't be cooped up all day, there will be plenty of time to stay indoors when your my age."

It was in this way that the semblance of her day took place. And how she managed her existence, which was one she thought a happy one, for soon, escape was far from the forefront of her mind.


	16. Hidden Capability

The lessons of the pianoforte continued, and with each passing day, Ty lee's skill playing it's intricate pieces became more prolific until she could play without making error. Soon she was was very far advanced in the study and practice of the musical arts and the sciences thereof, and endeavored at great lengths to strive for ever higher achievements of talent and precession. She found a joy in it all, a highly satisfactory method of expression that with cultured taste, became something extravagant.

This ever expanding ambition soon had her transcending beyond the piano to play other instruments such as the: horns, the flutes, the drums, and so forth, to the unbridled joy of Weiss who eagerly obliged and encouraged her to reach her highest potential. Though she showed a prolific skill in all of these areas, she never cultivated an understanding of their purpose and characteristics and be able to apply to her own compositions.

She tried writing her own music, a simple entourage of songs and various melodies preformed to a troupe of players, but none of these ever were quite noticeable. Though she tried, her songs, through no fault of her own, never achieved the "ump" needed to move a crowd. Her patterns were overly long and syndicated, the music was drab and rather repetitive at times, and at others; the instruments seemed out of harmony or intruded notes in areas which otherwise would have benefited from their absence. It was in this way that her music was blighted in the eyes of the public who viewed these through a weekly pamphlet which served as the cities herald.

Though some of these "concertos" were lively and upbeat, attracting a great deal from tavern owners who played them regularly at their establishments, they were rejected by the elite of the city who saw them as little more as phantasmagorical collection of amateurish novelties than any work to be taken seriously. It was through their influence that the songs soon became vexed if not totally shunned by all but the lower rings of society. However, Ty Lee, never being one to be discouraged, despite the small respite of bitterness she felt at her rejection, soon moved on to try her passion elsewhere. It was in this next endeavor where her true talent soared above her impressions and where her success was won.

This art, which her natural abilities granted her great endowment was her natural aptitude for singing. Though Weiss had never considered it of great importance to learn before, he thought it essential to at least delve a little into the topic. So it was, that through a few lessons and exertions, Ty Lee's capabilities finally made themselves know, to herself and Weiss.

He had arranged a small practice, a trial if you will, in which he would play the piano, going up and down the scale and she would sing the notes back at the same time. He started out at the bottom at C flat, her voice boomed like thunder from her chest. Nothing unexpected. Next D flat, same as the first but it progressed with the key. He advanced up the scale and reached the place at G1 where most non-professionals were not able to reach, but she did and continued up the scale. Then F1 and higher and higher.

It was astounding! She had the capability to reach the highest notes of the soprano with delicate ease, her voice clear and pristine with no sound of the struggle or agitation of the vocal chords. Her voice rang out like a the beautiful whistle of a crystal glass being spun on it's edge. Weiss was quite astonished, to be sure, for he had never heard such a voice in his entirety with no formal education or development in the singing affiliation.

He wanted to make sure that he was not being fooled by a fluke, or a chance mishap. So he gradually increased the tempo, gaining the notes ever more speed. Still she persisted, singing in each note in harmony one after the next, doing so in perfect harmony. He tested her further; the notes started to become sporadic and far leaned, she didn't wavier, nor showed any signs of fatigue. It was, at least to Weiss, like seeing the sum of his life's enterprise gleaming before him one shinning diamond in the rough. One singing diamond that was every gift and endowment as a performer he had been denied, realized in this one girl, who but five weeks earlier had been a complete stranger.

At the end of the secession he applauded with much candor and blitheness which fell ill on Ty Lee who had not once seen him so happy. "Bravo! Bravo! Fantastico! That was..." he paused with joy in his eyes as he tried to think of a better word "...beyond belief."

She nodded her head in gratitude, "Thank you."

"Never have I seen so much talent in my whole life! Are you sure you have never took a singing lessons?"

"Yes" she said, "I'm certain"

Weiss put his hand up to his mouth and frowned for a brief moment in deep thought, then jovially responded, "The theater season is coming up next month. And I believe it calls for something special, something ecstatic. I don't normally do operas but I think this talent deserves to be recognized. How does that sound?"

Ty Lee was taken a-back at the sudden generosity of the somber Weiss, and then asked out of curiosity, "Will I play the lead?"

"There not too many operas which have a young girl in the lead, but I think this one is one your going to love..."


	17. The Allenii

Existence on the plains, was a cruel one. With arid winds, unforgiving sun, and always the chance of drought it made living is such a desolate place daunting to all but the bravest of souls who would venture there. Nevertheless, a group of people still called these veldts their home, a home which they had inhabited for well over 100 years and had not only managed to survive among the hostile environment but to thrive in it. A feat that had won them renown in their own right, complemented only by their mastery of it. These people were the Allenii.

Originally a group of industrious merchants, who through various mischances and adversities, had been uprooted from their dwellings along the coast by the ever more powerful land barons who had decided to strengthen their hold on the land by fencing in their commercial empires of which they held dominion of. Thereby usurping all unwanted competition off their land so as to increase the marginality of their wealth. This included the merchant class, who through unscrupulous set of corrupt laws, had most of their trading rights taken away, and given to the so called "super" merchants, who could afford the tariffs and were under the direct control of the barons. Those who competed were soon left bankrupt because of the exceedingly high payment dues needed to own and navigate in the shipping lanes. Through this, the barons sought not only, for good intentions, cut down on illegal smuggling, perpetuated by those less than loyal mariners, but also to benefit and accumulate even more power.

This turn of events was caused by the zeitgeist which had embraced society at the time. The new accession of Fire Lords, in many drastic steps, sought to raise their meek and humble nation into a feared and respected nation by means of rearmament and making advances in the science of war. This bold plan of action required a mass labor force of every kind of people to help build this ambition into reality by the forging or weapons and instruments of war. Through the baron's help, as well as many others; such as imperial captains impressing foreign sailors into work aboard his new war ships, was the fire lords able to see their aspiration fulfilled. In return, those who had collaborated, were granted the income of the profits they had earned, and a higher status in the Fire Lord's eyes. The few families who aspired to greatness brought the most men, were rewarded prestigious privileges in the armed forces as well as numerous land grants. The most notable of these was a monopoly that was also granted to the Zhao family to be the sole manufactures of war ships in the fire nation as well as a permanent position as high admiral of the fleet.

Though, unlike most other peasants at the time, these lower sons of the exiled gentry of merchants were not necessarily destitute (many of them became relatively well off due to the large demand for their various trades and had a sizable if not modest fortune)they soon found themselves, however nestled between the cornerstone of rural existence, which they known for centuries, and the miserable workhouses of an ever more industrialized urban populace, who were ever more under the yoke of society's hierarchy. When they eventually were herded to these new facilities, never living in a village or town or more than 2,000 inhabitants, were awed by the imperial might they saw in the mechanical forges and complexes near the capitol, but still distrusted this modern economy which they saw before them. It was reluctantly and only through dire necessity, that they hired themselves out to these factories and shipyards, for the modest price they paid for their labor.

The labor conditions inside these complexes, however, were less than complementing to the human condition. The work for children was tedious and boring, like screwing a screw to keep the head of mass-manufactured pike on the pole. Though some made a living cleaning out the spinning jennies which assembled the uniforms for his most imperial majesty's soldiers. If a boy was not careful, or agile enough, he could get caught between the rotating gears and loss a finger or a toe. The adults, on the other hand, toiled in the iron forges, which were superheated to phenomenal degrees through constant fire bending, and the cast into swords, armor, and iron plates for ship building. Not only was it incredibly hot inside, but great care had to be taken to refine the metal and ensure that the metal met the standard requirements for use (ironically introduced by a safety law after a steam ship exploded from faulty metal). It required men to regularly get in and around the molten iron, which carried extreme danger, a false slip on the railing could have your skin burnt off your limb and your face permanently scolded. On top of it all, a thick mist of black soot and ash which plumbed from the smoke stakes covered everything for miles and they were constantly immersed in it. It caused children to develop stumped growth, but also caused everyone to suffer from breathing problems and make life in general dark and miserable.

Advancements in society came at a heavy cost, a cost that was paid by the gentry who strove to scratch a living in this new age as wage slaves to the industrial giants. Soon, a host of these workers, longing for the rural life that had sustained them before, discontented and unsatisfied with their new lot in life, decided they would leave the factories for the interior of the fire nation. When the director-general of the company learned of this, as one might expect, he became enraged. He called out the local militia to stop the peasants from leaving. The workers, using makeshift bats and other scrounged up weapons, managed to over-run the militia through sheer numbers, rather than any actual skill, killing only 17 men in the process and mauling hundred more. When they had managed to overrun them, a group of some 300 men, women, and children fled to the mountains, being pursued by more forces from the director-general. When the Fire Lord had heard of this uprising, he inspected the complexes himself, to which he was appalled. His change of heart caused him to immediately call off the troops, promptly afterwords he sent a herald and offered a pardon and land for their loyalty.

The group of workers, more than happy to reconcile with their leader, since their grievances lied with their bosses not their nation, more than eagerly agreed. They were drawn a charter, somewhat ambiguous in nature, of large open area to the south, lying between several mountain ranges to be granted to them. The now ex-indentured gentry, seeing this as a godsend, consented to it immediately. Though, in truth, no one had quite explored that land yet, which made their guess as to it as good as the Fire Lords' or the cartographers'.

When they first gazed upon the land, they were quite discouraged. It resembled nothing which they had ever been accustomed to, and they immediately felt a sense of betrayal at being given such marginal land. But through the difficulties, and with the inspiration of their elders, they soon adopted. To cope with this new land, they resided by the water, that is, they erected settlements along the streams that flowed from the mountains. The rivers allowed them to live off the fish they bore, but also provided irrigation for some meager farms. Since the mountains curved around the flatland, there was established a village wherever there was a sizable river to accommodate them. This gave them total control of the inland to dominate the veldts as they wished. This total mastery allowed them to collect, by far, the most important source of subsistence was hunting the wild game. To make hunting easier, they used horses to easily catch what they needed. The horse, because of this, was of major importance in their society, and rapidly became intertwined in it. This use of the horse made them experts of riding.

The population flourished over time, until those primitive villages that existed around the tributaries soon turned into minor cities in their own right. These cities, isolated from each other by many miles, formed into their own clans. But united through common heritage, and cultural ties, these clans still pledged alliance to one another and still considered themselves in a single mindset. It was through this, that over time, the necessity of having a ruler of the clans became necessary. It was decided that a leader would be elected from among a clan, whenever the last one died, and continue in that cycle so that every clan had their equal representation.

Through this, the now christened: Allenii (taken from a label 'allein' on their charter on the land which they inhabited which meant 'desolate'), lived harmoniously together, keeping themselves loyal to the fire lord. Over-time the Allenii's horseman skills became renowned. Rumors of how they accomplished such feats as they did, were kept alive by tourist who saw their remarkable precession and skill while riding a horse. It was because of this, the Fire-Lord, ever willing to keep peace within his nation, gave them commissions as his most elite bodyguard, who protected him with their lives on the battlefield, which they did numerous times.

It was because of this elite horsemanship, and willingness to serve the Fire Lord, and if necessary, die for him, that the Allenii became much revered in the Fire Nation as heroes who demonstrated what all citizens strove to achieve. This mutual bond between the Allenii as his most imperial majesty was only broken at the Siege of Ais, a heavily guarded fort in the Earth Kingdom. The imperial guard had run into battle but were quickly demounted by the Earth Benders. They offered ransom, to which Sozin, the current Fire lord at the time, refused. The Allenii were butchered and their heads put atop pikes on the forts walls.

It is because of this, the Allenii relinquished their commission and broke all ties with the Fire Nation who had betrayed them. To this day, their war banner displays a earthen wall with heads atop it, to symbolize their betrayal. They then again followed the route of isolationism keeping to themselves, being highly possessive of the land, only allowing those who they want to pass through their land.

It was these legendary warriors who Zuko now held company with, and within who's home he remained as a guest.

(Sorry for the long chapter, I normally don't write this long)


	18. From the City Gates

Ty Lee adored opera. In her youth she would gaze in vivid jealousy at the glamorously adorned women, clad in robes, wailing their lines out on stage in some tragedy of love or triumph or giggling to the musings of a hilarious comedy. She sometimes day dreamed of what it would be like to be in the limelight, and enjoy the satisfaction that profession must bring.

In truth, the job required more work and training, sacrifice and toil, hardship and rehearsals, than she had ever dreamed of. She soon learned that it was easy to sit for two hours while a spectacle of people sung to their hearts content for two hours, it was a different thing entirely to be the person who had to do the singing. Though, the practice was one of the many things having to be endured by the girl, she also had to contend with the actual opera itself. And how much she loathed it's realistic appraisal of human character of amorous and lowly.

The plot, of Weiss' opera, focused in and around a harem. A brothel of sorts, with every sort of debauchery one might expect to find in a whore house. It was filled with licentiousness, but overall it was a conventional story of love, nonetheless, centering around a girl, first abducted, then saved by her love who risks his life to come and save her. This was the basic plot, on which all sorts of social misdemeanors and short comings came forward in, and whose aura made it into a vaudeville of sorts partly meant for the crowd, and to enchant those of the upper orders with it's wit.

For all it's idealism though, it still made the world of opera lose it's glamor to Ty Lee. This was not helped by Weiss, who, was an entirely different person when he entered the concert hall.

In any normal circumstance, Weiss was...Weiss. A nostalgic, cold, reserved old man obsessed with music. But when he entered into "his" chamber, as he called it, he became electrified. As if his normality was an affront, and was all just an elaborate charade. He was agile and vivacious, energetic and carefree. His normally stringent motions became intense as he conducted with such candor, Ty Lee thought he might drop dead from stroke. Truly, Weiss was in his element, which made his reprisals that much worse. For hours the entire set would rehearse, singing, and re-singing, and the never to old to be offensive Weiss always had the last say on what was and what was not right.

Though he reprimanded Ty Lee several times for breaking out of step or voice, she had it considerably easier than the other actors who were constantly harassed by the brutal perfectionist. This caused several bulls with several discontented actors who simply walked off, refusing to be apart of it. This is no way bothered Weiss who simply replaced him or her with a more capable singer, always saying something to the effect of: "I never thought they could preform in "real" culture."

They worked for hours on in, but at some points Weiss saw he indeed was overworking his actors, and gave several days off. These furlough days were singular and no more than 1 every week. To make it worse, the sporadic Weiss never did anything on a regular basis (as he did most things), he simply picked a day at random and said "No need to come in today, no practice." It was during these brief periods of interlude, where Ty Lee would retire to secret location, which she had found among the cities parapets and in whose solace she found much joy.

At the very summit of the round mountain on which the city was built, there was an unimpressive stronghold, surrounded to by many small towers placed their for structural integrity. It was in one of these small towers, which faced out to the city, where Ty Lee came everyday. Inside each tower there was a place for guards to be stationed as a viewing platform. Out of each window there was mounted a telescope with had a scope indicator labeled on the inside, calculated from each tower to tell the distance of the objects from the towers viewed through the scope. But because these towers were auxiliary watch tower on the stronghold, and whose primary purpose was to be a the control centers for spotters who would relay coordinates the trebuchets (large counter-weight catapults) in the city during sieges so they could hit the enemy, they were never used nor regularly patrolled.

When she had her solitude, she would climb up the narrow steps to one of the towers and peer through the telescope for miles all around the flatland that surrounded the city. Though, to her disappointment, most of the time there was nothing in the way of anything interesting, other than the sun setting whose spectacular disappearance under the mountains always sent shivers down her spine.

However, one day, she saw through her scope, a detachment of soldier, dressed in Dazshi's uniforms, appear across the horizon, a thick envelope of dust making their appearance noticeable but hazy.

She didn't think much of it at first, as it was fairly common for soldiers to be dispatched by Dazshi for some menial job or to collect taxes. But as time passed, she realized that those weren't the city guards coming over the horizon. More and more, larger and larger regiments of brightly azure uniformed warriors came into the city. She realized, after a few weeks, that Dazshi, was collecting his forces into a mighty army. And so one thing, through many weeks, became tangent: if Dazshi was summoning his army, that meant that the imperial armies must be closing in...


	19. Relief

Zuko's existence, from the time when by curious accident he had found himself wounded by the naive Ty Lee, had become a self-derived and perpetuated, fully manifested hole of despair and ruin riding on the torment of disaster, which had quickly developed into a horrid cruelty resembling that of hell itself. For these last 3 score of week his life had run the gauntlet of every type of adversary one could think of, and yet he endured. To say, as least, he was on the brink of death for almost the entire time his visit had entailed him, and his condition was quickly deteriorating as his body became a living corpse.

It was only an improbable occurrence with the aborigines that had saved him from his untimely doom so prevalent among their party. Otherwise, he surely would have waned until he perished, like so many of his captors before him, upon the endless grasses of the veldts. It makes Zuko's fire bending achievement, something which many thought impossible to do in normal circumstances, blown to astronomical proportions when given the various conditions and factors inhibiting such a act of greatness.

When the Allenii brought the Fire Lord, who was struggling in the very palms of death into their city of nearly 6,000, the inhabitants were sent into a sense of amazement and were deeply honored and perplexed that such a prestigious person of merit and worth would find himself here, in the midst of nowhere. Though, they traditionally still harbored bitter feelings for the their betrayer , they were more generous to his heir and still acknowledged him as their sovereign and acted accordingly, if not exceedingly devoutly to make all his accommodations to ensure his stay was, at the very best, a comfortable one. They also wished to try to impress him, they hoped to accomplish this by cleaning and decorating the city in any way they could, so that when he awoke, he could be greeted by the best possible view of their humble abodes.

Men, women, and children made preparations and pleasantries, usually only reserved for the most important of holidays, into action. They bathed in the local rivers (something only done about twelve times a year), men wore their finest garments made of ornately emblazoned wool, while women dawned themselves in the finest silk loins available to them.

One might suppose that the preparations were premature. After all, it seemed entirely likely that before he had a chance to view the city he might succumb to his wounds. However, the funeral was a festive time too, in Allenii culture. One marked with festivities, pageantry, ceremonies to the dead, feasting in the deceased's honor(and subsequent fasting), tribute poems, and games. It was well noted (by wayward travelers) that every Allenii looked forward to the day, when he or she would be buried, and entertain all their friends and family with such splendid celebrations. Even so, the entire city waited in fervent anticipation for their celebration, whatever the occasion brought.

The city itself was not huge, nor was elaborate or ornate in any noticeable way. The city laid along the bottom of the mountain, where the plains ended. Around the city, a large earthen embankment ran the full length of the cities perimeter, encompassing all the houses within. On the embankment there were a multitude of spikes jutting from the ground to halt advancing horses, while on top of the embankment a palisade was erected to serve as wall against attackers who managed to get past the deterrent spikes. Within the palisade were an elaborate series of port holes artfully arranged, so that no attacker could come close and avoid direct fire from the defenders. This fortification, considered by most to be impenetrable, was the distinguishing brand on the tribe, which is why they named their city: Garan, meaning 'strong tower'.

Running through the town was a wide river, of which on both sides the city existed, being connected in the center by a stone bridge that was wide enough so that three men could walk abreast across it. The houses on either side we're of a simple construction; sticks weaved in and out to form the walls then caked in sod to insulate it, with a thatched roof on top. There were three rows of houses neatly aligned in singular order along the river, with street running out in front along the river's edge, and subsequent roads connecting the rows behind. These "roads" were little more than sandy earth which had been worn after so many people had trodden over it. Behind those houses were smaller cottages neatly allotted on the grassy ground that were organized into 2-acre plots of open land. Each plot held it's small farm, with it's own acreage and farm to till. Along with the communities agricultural needs, this also provided it's grazing land for the various livestock which sustained them.

Along the river front was also the Lord's house. It was the largest structure within the city, but still only having roughly the same amount of room as a small mansion. It's outward facade of red bricks, however, gave it an intimidating quality. The mansion, in practice, was suppose to serve as the very last stronghold of city, should the outer defenses collapse, and as such, was built with many small arrow slits and parapets that coated it all around. It was this most honored abode, where on the command of the Lord, he was quickly rushed into, when they arrived at the city at three in the morning, after a bitter all-day ride.

However, despite it's lordly residence, it was still a fortress first and an abode second. It was because of this reason that no bed was available for the fire lord. Instead, he was led into a small empty curved roof chamber, normally meant for storing food and provision, and was laid in a provisional stretcher in the center. The room offered almost no natural light, except for a medium sized archery slit that overlooked the river. The urgency of the situation, and the dire need for light for the doctor to properly examine him, led the room to be filled with a hundred burning candles, which although provided light, also made the room a exceptionally hot, and proved to be a misery for all those attending him. The Lord-'Mayor', as he was known while he was _in_ the city, immediately summoned the apothecary to the chamber to look after the fire lord.

The apothecary arrived in a most solemn manner, keeping his head high, not letting it bounce one inch out of place. He wore the standard apparel of a doctor; a black over coat which reached his feet, with a black broad brimmed hat atop his head, and a black cloth around his ears that covered the back of his head. Despite his bleak apparel, though, he was a rather queer man, instead of owning an overly sadistic or morbid disposition. Though his outward appearance lacked nothing in the way of looking professional, it was his odd habits; such as looking out into a space and seeming to be in a trance like state or his long considerate pauses and consolidations when talking to anybody that gave him his edge of oddity Nonetheless, despite his curious manners, he was a professional, as all the city agreed. It was his excellent knowledge of herbs and the like, and their healing abilities, which made him much revered and highly sought after in all the clans. It was only a matter of luck that he was staying in Garan, as he was usually traveling across the plain from city to city.

He was lead into the chamber of the fire lord, to assess the condition of his most imperial majesty. He didn't hesitate a second after the company of the Lord-Mayor had left the room, than to commence his task, in a frank and forthright manner. He ripped the shirt from the fire lord to witness something utterly foul. On his left side, there was a huge, yellowish scab, parceled with bits of red swollen skin, that oozed pus out of one side. The apothecary, who prided himself on his fortitude, was taken a-back for a moment as he tried to look around to see what had caused the infection to occur.

Unbeknownst to the doctor, Ty Lee had not quite removed all the shards of glass from his wound. As such, the skin grew around the glass, causing it leave a hole for bacteria that soon suppurated it into a the hideous ulcer that it was. The doctor knew what had to be done, and what surprised at how fast he had found the problem. It usually took longer for him to discern such things, but he promptly left the room to give his report to the Lord-Mayor, who had challenged the fire lord to such a magnificent feat on the plains.

The Lord-Mayor addressed him with anticipation, "What news doth thou have?"

The apothecary shook his head, "Poor fellow has got a wound of some various kind, I hath seen it many times before. If we hither delay, at not remove his pain most quick, that wound shall fester and cause him to expire."

He answered back in all seriousness "What then, shall we do?"

"It will require, many men, to lay the tyrant in his bed. For tyrant he soon shall be, if under knife with taken strongly. Get your spirits, and finest men, administer the spirits and hold him tither, whilst I in goodly manner, release the bile from his humor."

The lord shook his head, and gave a 'come on' nod to the guards standing down the hall. He brought the brandy he had from the cellar, as he, his men, and the doctor, prepared to do the painful act.

The guards assumed their positions, each one holding his arm or his leg, while the Lord-Mayor propped his head up and gave him several shots of brandy. When he was done, the doctor pulled out his knife, and cut open the wound, trying very gently to prevent the sore from exploding. The senseless Zuko, began twitching, convulsing his hands and shuttering whenever the doctor cut, but was generally was kept abated. When he had made a large enough incision, the doctor pulled out a pair of small tweezers and began probing around the wound. When the metal tongs hit glass, the doctor pulled it out, gently and smoothy. It was small piece of glass, only the sized of finger nail, leading the doctor to put the glass shard into a bowl on the counter, before probing again. The second time, he pulled out a huge shard, fully the size of a finger, from the fire lord's chest. On the glass was etched an ornate heart that was coated in the fire lord's blood. He held it in his tweezers, with a triumphant looks to all the guards, proclaiming in a mild voice, "Methinks it will heal up quite nicely now."


	20. The Far Flung Felix

Dazshi paced nervously in front of his estate, twiddling his beard and looking down at his feet with a grim countenance. He would often pause while walking and look over the horizon, staring as if he was looking for something, then curse and turn around and begin walking again. He obstinately kept this up, even though the blazing sun bore down upon him and he perspired from the vivid heat.

At last, he resigned himself to a bench on the ledge that over looked the city, and held his nose down in his lap, resting his forehead upon his thumbs, as he gave many sighs of frustration. He breathed deeply, letting his lungs draw back, and breathed out heavily like a gale upon the shore. In the garden behind him, which was laden with multiple rows of neatly groomed hedges, was an olive tree. He warily picked himself up and idly strolled over to the tree, pick off one of its nearby twigs, and removed the olives from off the buds and placed them into the palm of his hand. He ate the olives one by one, taking very long bites, letting the flavor truly resonate on his tongue.

Just as he finished, Ty Lee came walking listlessly along the breezeway. He noticed her with curiosity and decided to call out to her, "Fraulein!" Ty Lee looked around trying to find the source of the call. When he was sure he had caught her attention he called again, "Fraulein!" He waved his hand to show where he was.

Ty Lee looked out into the garden and saw him and gave a surprised jolt, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were calling me." She called back.

He replied with a calm indifference to her lack of attention, dismissing it saying, "It is okay. It was something Weiss told me he calls young ladies." Ty Lee nodded her head, knowing that she had been referred by that title many times before, and was half surprised it _wasn't _Weiss who had called her for another one of his sporadic schedule changes.

"Do you mind if we take a turn with around the grounds?" he asked in a most polite refinement.

She smiled, for it would only be the right thing to do, and replied, "Of course." The two then proceeded to walk upon the cobble road around the garden, which connected with the road in the front of the house.

"I have not heard of your friend Zuko as of late."

Ty Lee nodded her head, "Why not?" she asked with a feigned uninformed interest.

"Well..." continued he, "That is what I would like to know the answer to myself. I had given orders to Felix to take him to the Island for medical attention, before coming back here. By my reckoning, Felix should be near the Mountains near Fink and his ninth army which guard the passes there."

Ty Lee smiled broadly as she coaxed him on, not showing an sign of subtly in her flattery, "Your commanders are the best in the world, I'm sure you will be informed soon enough."

He waved his hand to the right with force, "They're bunch of idiots and failures. Spent to much time at the academy learning how to hold a knife. I never went to the academy, but look at me."

"Yes, you quite out do them, my Lord."

He flexed his eyebrows in an approving manner. "But...if Felix is near the mountains, Fink might have saw him. But my scribe is on leave." He paused in a lull as they walked down the pathway leading to the gate of the third level. "You, perchance, wouldn't know how to write?"

She nodded again, "Indeed, I do."

"Would you mind writing my message to Fink then?"

She smiled, wishing not to upset him replied, "Gladly."

They returned to the house where she took her spot on a wooden table beside a stack of parchment in the main living room. Dazshi sat in a lounge chair as he rubbed his index finger across his chin. Ty Lee pulled out a fresh sheet, and eagerly dipped his pen in the fountain of ink. He raised his finger into the air and started dictating, "Write this: To Fink, Head Marshall of the 9th Army in the Field." She eagerly scribed in her finest cursive his heading. "Respond to these questions:" she placed the title above the center of the page. He waited a moment and began again, "Firstly, Where is your command post? Secondly, What is the state of Provisions?, Thirdly, Has any sign of Felix been seen?, Fourthly, If so, where is Felix now?"

She eagerly pinned down the message, hoping that it soon would bring her and Zuko closer again. Though she had high hopes she was not certain what could have possibly happened these last 2 months that could have held him. She finished the letter and handed it to Dazshi, who took a candle of wax from his desk near the door and melted it onto the crease of the folds of the two paper, and inscribed his seal upon it. He then handed the letter back to her, "Take that to the courier." he said.


	21. The Grave Affliction

**Reviews would be greatly appreciated.**

The debilitated prince tottered in and out of his delirium for the next week. At times he seemed to recover, he would awake, and talked with zeal and charisma, at others he succumbed to his fever and lay attenuated on his bed. All the while the doctor, who went about his duties with eccentric fervor, stayed at the Prince's side, tending his wound, and fetching him water to cool his temperament as he laid there being burned alive by his own body seeking to purify him of his malady. And for the duration of that week, the Lord-Mayor, as well as the entire city waited in hushed apprehension of whether or not their leader, who appeared to them so suddenly, would be taken by this foul disorder.

After the seventh day had passed, the Lord-Mayor's infinite patience broke under the strong anxiety of his condition, and he summoned the doctor to give him a full report of his present condition. The queer doctor made his way in stern silence into the private chambers of the Lord-Mayor's house, (that is where he conducted business), and stood before him. His words were cold and unimpassioned as he spoke, "My Lord, I have, as of late, come to the conclusion, here at, that the Prince has indeed allowed himself to become induced with what I hath thus feared more so than any other. His humors will not avail him on this disease, for I have witnessed it many times, presently. It eats away most presumably, and if the patient isn't treated within the space of a fortnight therein, it shall overtake him. My Lord, I am despondent, but I must say unto you, that I do not, on my person, possess the means of curing him, and that nor do I possess the means of finding the components for the cure, though I know the cure quite well. And thus, if not acted upon most earnestly by your Lordship, he will perish."

The Lord-Mayor stood on the opposite end of the room stroking his chin, pondering. And then asked with due thought, "What dost thou require good doctor?"

"I require wild heathers, from newly bloomed fields, to mix and then pulverize into a solution to administer to him."

"Spring hath since been long past doctor." He told him dismayed.

"Indeed, which is why I say unto you, I don't have the means of finding it, because it does not exist as of present.". The doctor paused for a moment and continued, "Perhaps you know of someone who has this?". There was an eagerness in his voice.

"I will get thee thy heathers doctor, even if I have to sell my soul, I shall acquire them. But not for your sake, doctor. There is a larger work in play, methinks, some cosmic force guiding his path, though where, I cannot say. It is, after all, not a coincidence that we would find him on the eve of the Fall equinox, which heralds in the xenial season. The spirits want me act generously unto him. It's a test, I must do the selfish and unrequited thing."

The doctor shrugged, "If you believe such things. I on the other hand don't think much on such things. The earth spins, and moon rest the tides, it's all a science."

"And that is why I do not do this for your own sake doctor. You may leave now."

The doctor bowed his head low to show honor, and courteously turned and proceeded to exit out the double-ironed doors to tend to his patient. Before he did, the Lord-Mayor was already gazing back on an astrolabe sitting on the table, with a lunar map next to it, as he delicately fine tuned it and aligned it with the map, trying to narrow a reading of some sort. "Very strange indeed..."

His fingers traced the cold steel of the strange instrument as he looked out into the receding darkness of the night through his window. He sighed in painful recollected hesitation, knowing full well the only people in 300 leagues who would process such an ingredient this late in the year. Finding them was no problem, it was getting it from them was the problem. He knew what they wanted...but he didn't want to relinquish it. It was his. He had earned it. But...scarifies often needed to be made. A sanctimonious side of his spirit lifted the weight of his greed off his soul and he sighed now with a spanning hesitation.

He wanted to make his way to the door, but he couldn't. He was frozen in a trance, unable to stop staring at the various symbols on his astrolabe. It was only with the most strenuous of effort was he able to haul himself away from the instrument, and make for the door. As he walked toward the exit, he picked up a small leather bag, not bigger that the size of a coin purse. The bag held something small and hard, but hardly discernible through the thick hide that surrounded it. He hesitantly slipped it in his pocket and continued on his way out the door, dawning a riding cloak that hid his entire appearance.

He moved silently on the now abandoned streets of the city. His footsteps being entirely hidden by the cape of the cloak. If one were to look on his from afar, he seemed to float over the ground. Moving cautiously from shadow to shadow, steadily traversing the lengths of the streets and alleyways. At last he came to the mound wall, and with great dexterity, hauled himself nimbly over the palisade and around the outer spikes until he descended the mound and was outside the city. Beyond that, the fields stretched far and wide, but what, to many with untrained eyes might seem like an unnavigable sea, to him was more familiar than the scars he bore upon his chest from battle.

He moved without hesitation, picking up speed now, jogging along at a slightly faster past, yet not so much so he was running. After a good trek, he came to a circle of mighty trees protruding from the earth. The tree's were ancient in size, and neatly kept. There appearance was mesmerizing and mystical, as it kept an eerie green glow around it. From the apex of the circle, a strange fog stemmed, and soon covered the entire land. The fog was thick and wretchedly dense. It soon became so, that the Lord-Mayor could no longer see in which direction he was going.

He suddenly felt a descending fear in the pit of his stomach. For the first time in his life, he was lost. He had heard tales of shadow men who went around stalking it's victims and terrorizing their dreams, and the mysterious doppelgangers, ghosts that lurked within the low and haunted places where the spirit world met with the world of the living, whose being took on the appearance of the victim. Those words of the ancient he had heard as a child suddenly trailed upon his lips, as crisp as the day he heard them, _"Don't glance into their eye, or you will surely die"_. If you looked on your doppelganger with both eyes, it would strike you dead.

He became paranoid. The shadows consumed all around. It wrenched at his insides, tearing it from the inside out. There was nothing around, and the silence put him on edge. As he proceeded into the grove of trees, he began whistling a tune he had heard. A slow, methodical melody, that now haunted him more-so, as it served little to break the ceaseless silence.

In one swift and heart stopping moment, the silence was broking by a cackling laughter that seemed to resonate all around him. He jolted backed startled, and looked frantically around trying to find out where it was coming from. The voices within the deep echoed unnaturally off the trees, and pierced the fog with their brevity. The mayor looked around trying to find out where it was coming from, to no avail. Finally he shouted into the misty fog, "Reveal yourselves, weird women!"

The cackling suddenly receded and the hollow hysteric voice of one of the witches responded, "All alone, with none around, will the body e'er be found?" The laughter now retorted with full force.

"I have a favor to ask!" he shouted in defiance.

The witches began to mock him as they said all at once, "Humble men of humble doubts, with a voice in vain he shouts!". The voices seemed to be getting closer now. Descending in on all sides, as their pitches became sharper and more precise as the witches kept taunting him "Fair is foul, and foul is fair, thick the mist that taints the air. All alone with none around, will the body e'er be found?"

The Lord-Mayor couldn't help but tremble. His hand shook furiously on his bosom. Suddenly a hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him to the ground. Before he had a chance to blink four witches stood looking on him. Their faces were horribly disfigured, plagued with every sort of ailment. Old and haggled, you couldn't discern were men or women, except by their voices.

The witch on the farthest right was the first to speak, "He is brave is he naught?"

The nearest left answered back, "Aye, indeed. What brings thou here? Worldly man who has no fear?"

"Heathers bloomed, of early spring. Of freshest flowers thus arranged, for goodly medicine concoct."

"Medicine?" one asked puzzled, "For whose need so dire still?"

"The prince, who rule thee, mind and soul, pledges bound on earth he binds, the Kingdom Fire, thus aligned."

They questioned among themselves, "The King!' One exclaimed.

"What Sorcery!" said another.

"Quite foreign to our works, I must say." partook the the third.

"A prince indeed, you noble hags. And that's why I here trouble you. In bondage, savage, he was kept. Bound with ropes around his neck. Till and I, my men, and squires bold, slaughtered number near untold. There in wagon did make, fire enough to fill a lake."

"Quite unheard!"

"Sir you lie!"

"I do not lie, madams, if you please, I have far more integrity. But he is in a dreadful state, poxed and plagued by a dreadful curse, that binds him there with sore and fever to his bed. And if not heathers gotten from the spring for cure to make, he will die before he wakes."

"As we said the last time round, what _we_ most desire. Or did you forget you golden liar?"

"I have not, as you may jest. My character can thus attest. See here I have it here, in my bag that I keep near." He unwinds the small bag from his belt and throws it to the witches.

One of the witches unwinds the binding and slips off the leather. And there standing in their midst was an a clean cut emerald jewel, fine and polished, so much so that the features on their faces were clearly visible through the stone. The three weird sisters looked over it awing in it's features as the fourth stepped forward. "Good man art thou! Otherwise we would have thrown your corpse into the river." She then produced from her rags that she wore around here a jar of heathers which she delicately placed in his hands.

"And so," they all said at once, "Adieu!" They stomped their left foots on the ground at once, and disappeared into the fog. Which the immediately receded. When it cleared, much to his amazement, he was standing in the middle of the city. Quite shaken by the turn of events, he still made his way to the doctor to save the poor boys life.


	22. The Affliction of the Grave

Zuko didn't know where he was. There was no sign of life, no light of any sort, no the hush of the wind, nor any sign of life. It was utter silence that pierced everything, as the despondency, the sheer forlornness of the desolation set in. It is a sound hard to hear, by anyone who's never heard it. But it never desisted, it simply remained totally still. As he squinted through the pitch blackness, he tried to discern anything that could give him his bearings, but there was nothing to be had. He called out, a lone voice breaking the silence, that resonated on in echoes, hoping for some sort of reply, some sign of humankind - but no voice called back.

This kind of blackness was malicious, it was not natural. It seemed as though a heavy veil rested over him, as foreboding and overwhelming as being suffocated any not being able to react. Just to sit and worry, as you gag out your last moments in horrible agony. As hands do to the throat, so this did to the soul. No hope, no complacency, no peace, just silence, silence unbroken as the grave. But, that was an undermining thought, for the veil that did so well to conceal what might not be seen, soon lifted it's gossamer cloak, to reveal the mere outline of what lay ahead. And then that unmoving silence was broken by a silent gasps as the outlines became forms, and the forms became facets, and the facets became real. All around him, in every direction, spanning on into the abominable darkness were countless sepulchers and stones, marble slabs and bones, lying disarrayed upon the ground. Every, the very essence of death lingered. Every where, those faces that had no eyes started back. Every where the reapers scythe lay testament to them, for they were truly dead.

His hand began to shake in rapid burst, anxiety did it's best to unnerve him, but he stood in firm defiance before that force that beckons us to our ends. As he viewed around, he could not long contain himself in awe and grief, as he surveyed the catacombs. But quite composed, he delicately lifted up his legs, and trekked over the corpse ridden ground. He didn't dare look down at what he stumbled upon so many times. So were nothing more than white washed bones, laying there before him, while others were missing flesh or ligaments, and bore stringent, strange and ghastly looks upon their faces. Some lay prostrate, others more serene, some bore shrouds, while others lay bare, some were lords, and some were paupers, but they all resided here.

After he had a gone a piece, passing over the rotting remains, he came across a cobbled road, that ran far and wide amongst the graves. It presence was relieving, as he stepped upon the stony road, and clacked down it's eerie path, not knowing where that road would take him. He continued on, but as much as he would try to avert his sight, he could not help but glance as he travailed and came across more corpses among the slabs and monoliths. And after some time, their presence was not so offending to his sight, and he looked on, in more of an acceptance, than a fear.

For a mile or so, he walked along, until at last he came upon a mighty sepulcher. At it's base, a large piece of polished rock stood as it's cornerstone. Upon it, the whitest marble formed it's base, and the stairs that led unto that base. The base was a circle, so eighty feet in diameter. And around that base supporting the roof atop, were 10 mighty marble columns, all of them precisely even bearing inscriptions to the dead upon them. Beyond them were four even larger columns forming a square. The roof was a large curved dome, like that on a minaret. Painted Carolina blue, with gold leaves and ornaments ordaining those columns and around the dome. In the center of the base of the sepulcher upon the floor, was an oblique and crude carving of a skull. And upon the skulls head were written this word painted in black bold letters: "Arcane". Zuko looked upon the scene with much intrigue. As all the other graves that stood before him were decrepit, this mighty structure remained intact.

He found in the alien building some comfort. Inside, hanging upon the columns, were iron mounted fixtures with small candles upon them. The light from the candles served to brighten the gloom of this low place, as he kept himself on the floor. He decided at length to stay and reside in the mighty place, at least for a short time, not being in not great hurry to be anywhere, relishing it's facade that served to give him some feeling of safety. Resting his back on the column, he preoccupied himself with counting the various irrelevant objects of ornaments that hung from the ceiling. He counted and recounted, until the counting got the best of him, and he fell into such a state of drowsiness that he lingered a while before dozing , his head and neck still supported by the column.

First passed an hour, and the two, and then three. Three hours in that place, and the Prince finally came back to reality from his respite. This time, it was not so welcoming as before. The lanterns bright glow of burning oil, had died. The flickering trail of fire of the hearth, suddenly cast a hellish glow and illuminated everything red. And then, a swarm of ravens descended upon that place, and they swarmed all around, going continuously to and fro in one linear direction. One following the other as fast as their anatomy would allow them. Cawing and crowing their fowl cries as they shrieked liked terrible sirens, and whisked little smoke through the wind. Then suddenly, the oddities mounted on top of one another.

The skeletons, who laid there prostrate on the ground, quite unexpectedly, began to move. As if some force of animation, quite unknown, had joined their limbs and joins, and with force bound them together, and made them move. The skeletons and corpses hauled themselves up, and with great capacity, began to first to crawl and then to walk! They scattered themselves, and stood upon their own graves. Then those obfuscated anomalies began to dance in a sporadic way. Waving their arms and kicking their legs in ways that no mortal could. And as they did, rotting pieces of flesh began to fall away, and ligaments and muscles deteriorated, yet they continued. They were dancing on their own graves!

Zuko was quite overcome with these turn of events that seemed so obtrude to nature as he watched the ravens shriek, and the bodies dance, and the corpses wail and moan. But just as they began, they stopped. Regimented, all of them, bird, beast, and man, stood at attention on their stones, facing off toward the great monument where Zuko laid therein. And Zuko, who now out of dementing curiosity looked out into the distant for the object that held their attention fixated. Out of the darkness, their appeared a specter, indiscernible from the vivid and vicious blue light that blinded him to it's features. It came forward slowly, down the cobbled road, striding it's pace to the Prince. It's every foot step giving a deep hollow bang as it approached.

Zuko hid himself behind the column, bending on his knees, as he held his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding light. Soon the haunted specter reached the base, and it ascended the stairs to the open forum slowly. When it reached the center of mosaic on the floor of the skull, it stopped, it's light from within it's body subsided, and his features became recognizable. Zuko stood to his feet and squinted, still being to far to make out clearly apparition, trying to eye it's mien. At last Zuko spoke across the forum to the being, "I have no intention of offending you. So I ask: May I approach."

The ghost answered back with unearthly hollow voice that seemed to come from it's stomach, "You may."

Zuko grudged across the floor, seeing more and more as he approached. And then, he recognized who it was. It was Aang! There was Aang, still dawning his garb that he had wore when he had last seen him. But, as he came yet closer, he noticed something horrible. Aang's body cradled his head in his own arms. His eyes were cold and unfeeling, his skin stiffened and unusually pale. The cephalophore stared at him with a dead indifference. There was no emotions in his eyes, which stared cruelly and blankly at him from his torso where his arms held it. Zuko looked upon his old comrade, weary and disillusioned as to his current state of mind. After a moment of intense staring, the former Avatar spoke to him, "Zuko." he said, "You have finally come." It's voice still carried the awful foreboding indifference.

Zuko spoke to him hesitantly, "I do not know where here is."

Aang without hesitation sprang into a furious roar, screeching at the top of his longs. Causing the earth to tremble under his mighty voice. Zuko trembled at the sudden outburst of rage. And when the scream had died with a thunderous clash, the Avatar's voice was terribly impassioned to the point fury, "The Land of the Dead! Could it be made clearer to an idiot such as yourself! Or was the stinking flesh not a big enough hint!"

It was now Zuko's turn to be aloof, "You are not the man I once knew."

The Avatars eyes filled with grief and sorrow, as what looked like tears tried to roll down his cheeks. "No…I am not. I am not. I've been trapped here, among the dead. Unable to sleep, unable to eat, never to linger, nor find comfort." He let the words be long and draw under the weight of his sorrow, "I…have gone…far and wide. And I have learned much. But I have no happiness left. No happiness. I am doomed to roam between the here and there, until my avenger is slain."

Zuko looked on with the deepest sympathy, "I didn't know." Spoke he.

Aang turned to him, "No, you didn't. But that, is the reason I have summoned you here. You must go and slay that accursed man." He paused for a long moment, and his sorrow turned to a morose bitterness, "But….I have to wonder…why he would do such a thing in the first place? For as I have learned from my roaming, he had not yet declared rebellion. And…he was on his way from a conference with _you_, Zuko. Perhaps it wasn't Dazshi at all who showed me such dishonor. Perhaps, One prince wanted me out of the way after winning him his throne!".

Zuko was highly offended, "I never wanted anything from you! If you cannot trust me now, why ask me to perform this task?"

The Avatar's cold disposition melted away, away back into tears. He was still that twelve year old boy he knew not so long ago. "You're right." said he, "You're right. I apologize friend. But I so very tired. So very, very tired."

Zuko waited a moment to respond. He put his hand on the Avatar's shoulder, "I will restore your honor Aang. And I will avenge you. This I promise." Aang embraced him as best he could with one arm still holding his head. "You won't have to stay here much longer."

"Thank you…Zuko. My old…friend."

With those concluding words Zuko awoke from his bed to see he was still residing within the Lord's Mayor's house, in the early dawn of the rising sun.


End file.
